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LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED   BY 
HILTON   P.    GOSS 


<^-J^^<^  =.2^<^^„^i!:     (^^^/^ 


THE 


^SOUL    OF    SPAIN 


BY 


HAVELOCK    ELLIS 


FIFTH  IMPRESSION 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

Many  years  ago,  as  a  child  of  six,  I  was  taken 
by  my  father  from  Callao  to  spend  the  day  in 
Lima,  the  capital  of  Peru.  It  was  the  first 
great  foreign  city  I  had  seen,  and  the  unfamiliar 
features  of  its  streets,  such  as  elsewhere  have 
since  become  so  familiar  to  me — the  huge  gate- 
ways, the  pleasant  courtyards  one  looked  into 
beyond — made  an  ineffaceable  impression  on  my 
mind.  It  has  since  seemed  to  me  a  fact  not 
without  significance  that  this  first  glimpse  of 
the  non- Anglo -Saxon  world  should  have  been 
of  a  foreign  city  founded  on  those  Spanish 
traditions  which  have  since  been  so  attractive 
to  me,  so  potent  to  thrill  or  to  charm. 

My  acquaintance  with  Spain  itself  has  been 
confined  to  the  past  twenty  years  or  less. 
During  this  period  I  have  visited  the  land  five 
times,  traversing^  it  in  all  directions,  enterino- 
and  leaving  it  by  all  its  chief  portals,  at  Port- 


vi  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Bou,  at  Algeciras,  at  Irun.  I  am  convinced 
that  it  is  only  by  a  succession  of  visits  at 
intervals  that  an  unfamiliar  country,  of  such 
marked  and  strong  character  as  Spain  possesses, 
can  be  comprehended ;  it  is  necessary  to  meditate 
over  one's  impressions  at  leisure,  to  start  afresh, 
again  and  again,  with  some  old  prejudice  re- 
moved, and  a  clearer  vision  of  the  essential 
facts ;  during  a  single  visit,  however  lengthy, 
this  is  difficult  to  effect. 

Although  I  have  in  this  way  tried  to 
approach,  as  well  as  I  can  and  from  many 
different  sides,  a  few  of  the  manifold  aspects 
of  the  Spanish  spirit,  I  am  well  aware  how 
inadequate  and  superficial  my  attempt  must 
appear  to  those  among  us  who  have  devoted 
their  lives  to  the  study  of  Spain.  My  own 
life-work  is  in  other  fields ;  I  cannot  therefore 
complain  if  more  profound  students  should  feel 
that  I  have  made  but  a  feeble  attempt  to  in- 
terpret the  Spanish  spirit. 

Let  me  say  also,  once  and  for  all,  that  this 
book  is  not  put  forward  as  an  indiscriminate 
recommendation  to  visit  Spain.  Spain  is  not 
an  easy  land  to  comprehend,  even  for  intelligent 
visitors,  and,  taken  as  a  whole,  it  is  by  no  means 
a  land  for  those  who  attach  primary  importance 


PREFACE  vii 

to  comfort  and  facile  enjoyment.  The  common 
notion  that  Spain  is  another  Italy  is  false  and 
misleading.  An  acquaintance  with  Italy  is,  in- 
deed, the  worst  preparation  for  entering  Spain  : 
all  we  have  learnt  in  Italy  must  be  forgotten 
when  we  cross  the  Pyrenees.  Spain  is  not  even 
the  equivalent  of  Italy.  For  all  who  inherit 
European  civilisation,  Italy  must  always  be  the 
chief  and  richest  museum  of  antiquities,  a  sacred 
land  of  pilgrimage.  Spain  is  interesting  and 
instructive,  in  the  highest  degree  fascinating 
for  those  who  can  learn  to  comprehend  her,  but 
these  must  always,  I  think,  be  comparatively 
few.  For  these  few,  however,  the  fascination  is 
permanent  and  irresistible.  It  is  a  fascination 
not  hard  to  justify. 

The  political,  industrial,  and  commercial 
aspects  of  Spain,  it  will  be  seen,  have  little  or 
no  place  in  these  pages.  Those  are  aspects  of 
Spain  often  dealt  with  by  writers  far  more 
competent  to  deal  with  them  than  I  am,  and 
I  recognise  that  they  are  aspects  which  are 
gaining  a  larger  importance  to-day  than  they 
have  had  for  a  long  time  past.  But  unless 
we  look  very  far  back,  it  is  not  in  those  fields 
that  the  genius  of  Spain  has  been  conspicuously 
shown.     Spain  represents,  above  all,  the  supreme 


viii  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

manifestation  of  a  certain  primitive  and  eternal 
attitude  of  the  human  spirit,  an  attitude  of  heroic 
energy,  of  spiritual  exaltation,  directed  not  chiefly 
towards  comfort  or  towards  gain,  but  towards  the 
more  fundamental  facts  of  human  existence.  It 
is  this  essential  Spain  that  I  have  sought  to 

explore. 

HAVELOCK  ELLIS. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

1.  Introduction 

1 

2.  The  Spanish  People  . 

29 

3.  The  Women  of  Spain 

61 

4.  The  Art  of  Spain     . 

.      106 

5.  Velazquez 

.      134 

6,  Spanish  Dancing 

.      170 

7.  Ramon  Lull  at  Palma 

.     191 

8.   '  Don  Quixote  '  . 

.     223 

9.  Juan  Valera 

.      244 

10.  Santa  Maria  del  Mar 

273 

11.  The  Gardens  of  Granada 

306 

12.  Segovia      .... 

321 

13.  Seville  in  Spring 

338 

14.  Seville  Cathedral     . 

355 

15.  Monserrat          .         .         .         . 

369 

16.  Spanish  Ideals  of  To-dat 

386 

INDEX      

415 

IX 


INTKODUCTION 

7  (7  The  common  belief  that  Spain  is  a  rigidly  con- 
servative country,  unchanging  and  unchangeable, 
is  not  without  an  element  of  truth.  There  is  a 
certain  tenacity  of  fibre  in  the  people  of  this 
land,  tempered  during  untold  generations  by 
the  mingled  fire  and  ice  of  their  keen  Castilian 
climate,  which  makes  it  easy  to  recognise  in  the 
Spaniard  of  to-day  the  Iberian  described  by 
Strabo  two  thousand  years  ago.  But  the 
Spaniard's  tenacity  of  fibre  is  like  that  of  his 
famed  old  Toledo  blades  ;  it  admits  a  high  degree 
of  flexibility.  Of  all  the  larger  countries  of 
Europe  with  a  great  past  behind  them,  Spain 
has  most  fallen  to  the  rear.  Yet  it  is  a  mistake 
to  imagine  that  Spain  has  at  any  time  been 
standing  still.  It  is  highly  instructive  to-day 
to  read  Gautier's  Voyage  en  Espagne.  This 
book  is  much  more  than  a  fine  piece  of  literary 
impressionism,    it    is    a     massive     intellectual 

1  B 


2  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

acWevement.  Journeying  in  a  little -visited 
country,  with  few  modern  means  of  locomotion, 
and  no  Baedeker  in  his  hand  (it  is  scarcely  ten 
years  indeed  since  Baedeker  recognised  the 
existence  of  Spain),  Gautier  in  a  few  weeks 
grasped  all  the  more  salient  characteristics  of  the 
people  and  the  land,  and  set  them  down  in  the 
clearest  and  firmest  fashion.  His  book  will 
never  cease  to  have  its  value,  for  it  represents  a 
state  of  things  which  has  largely  vanished.  No 
one  nowadays  need  make  his  Spanish  tour  in  a 
diligence,  and  no  tourist  now  is  likely  to  be 
permitted,  as  Gautier  was,  to  spread  out  his 
mattress  at  night  in  the  courts  of  the  Alhambra. 
The  virginal  romanticism  of  a  splendid  and 
tattered  Spain  such  as  Gautier  found  has  gone, 
almost  as  completely  as  the  splendidly  ruinous 
Rome  that  Goethe  entered  in  his  carriage 
has  to-day  been  swallowed  up  in  the  shoddy 
capital  of  modern  Italy.  Spain,  indeed,  has 
not  yet  attained  the  depressing  exuberance  of 
renovated  Italy, — and  the  peoples  of  the  two 
peninsulas  are  far  too  unlike  to  make  any  such 
resemblance  probable, — but  the  contrast  between 
Gautier's  Spain  of  less  than  a  century  ago  and 
the  state  of  Spain  to-day  is  sufl&ciently  striking 
to  dispel  for  ever  the  notion  that  we  are  here 
concerned  with  a  country  which  has  been  hope- 
lessly left  behind  in  the  march  of  civilisation. 
I  have  been  able  to  realise  the  change  in 


INTRODUCTION  8 

Spain  in  the  course  of  my  own  acquaintance 
with  the  country  during  the  past  twenty  years, 
never  more  vividly  than  now  as  I  return  from 
my  fifth  visit  to  a  land  which  to  me  has  long 
seemed  perhaps  the  most  fascinating  I  know  in 
the  Old  World  or  the  New.  And  when  I  com- 
pare the  Spain  I  have  just  left  with  the  Spain 
I  first  entered  at  Port-Bou  nearly  twenty  years 
ago,  the  magnitude  of  the  changes  which  have 
been  efi'ected  in  so  brief  a  space  seems  to  me  very 
remarkable.  As  soon  as  we  leave  the  railway 
track,  indeed,  we  enter  at  once  what  may  be 
called  the  eternal  Spain — the  Spain  sub  species 
ceternitatis — which  Cervantes  immortalised.  It 
is  in  the  cities  and  towns  that  the  change  has 
chiefly  been  manifested.  Spaniards  are  now 
experiencing  (though  not  for  the  first  time,  for 
the  same  tendency  was  noted  over  a  century 
ago)  the  modern  European  tendency  to  crowd 
into  towns.  All  the  recent  consular  reports, 
from  north  and  from  south  alike — from  Barcelona 
and  Bilbao,  from  Malaga  and  Granada — con- 
tain the  same  monotonous  refrain  that  the  towns 
are  becoming  crowded,  and  that  the  expenses  of 
town  life  are  increasing.  Yet  the  population  of 
Spain,  as  the  censuses  show,  is  not  expanding 
at  any  inordinate  rate  and  the  movement  of 
emigration  is  active.  What  is  happening  is 
that  urban  life  is  developing,  and  as  it  develops 
its  attractive  power  increases  and  it   draws  the 


4  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

country  dwellers  more  and  more  within  its  circle, 
The  brothers  Quintero,  who  rank  high  among 
the  Spanish  dramatists  of  to-day,  in  one  of  the 
best  of  their  comedies,  El  Amor  que  Pasa^ 
have  presented  a  delightful  picture  of  an  old- 
world  Andalusian  village  from  which  the  tide  of 
life  has  receded,  where  men  are  scarce  and  where 
strangers  rarely  come,  and  all  the  vivacity  and 
intelligence  of  the  place  are  concentrated  in  a 
few  girls  whom  there  is  no  one  to  woo.  It  was 
not  part  of  the  dramatists'  object  to  elucidate 
this  question  of  urban  development,  but  it  is 
easy  to  see  from  their  picture  how  the  city  has 
impoverished  the  village,  and  how  those  who  are 
left  only  feel  with  the  greater  force  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  city. 

The  more  flourishing  Spanish  cities  are  nowa- 
days full  of  life  and  animation.  Not  only  are 
the  large  and  handsome  caf^s  crowded — that  is 
no  novelty — but  factories  are  springing  up,  the 
signs  of  industrial  and  commercial  activity 
abound,  and  the  streets  swarm  with  electric  cars. 
In  the  use  of  electricity,  indeed,  Spain  is  before, 
rather  than  behind  most  European  countries. 
Electric  lighting  is  becoming  universal,  even  the 
smallest  and  most  old-world  cities  are  now 
covered  with  networks  of  wires,  and  as  the 
massive  old  churches  offer  a  tempting  basis  of 
attachment,  the  most  beautiful  and  picturesque 
spots    and    buildings     are     everywhere    being 


INTRODUCTION  5 

desecrated  and  disfigured,  to  the  disgust  of  the 
travelling  lover  of  the  picturesque.  The  brill- 
iance, vivacity,  and  modern  activity  of  a  large 
Spanish  city,  a  certain  touch  of  almost  Oriental 
colour  in  it,  suggest  that  the  Spanish  are  taking 
as  their  models  the  Hungarians  of  Buda-Pesth,  a 
city  which,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  represents  the 
highest  point  of  city  development  Europe  has 
yet  attained. 

The  conservatism  and  traditionalism  of  the 
Spaniard,  we  have  to  realise,  are  compatible  not 
only  with  an  aptitude  for  change,  but  even  with 
an  eager  delight  in  novelty  and  a  certain  dis- 
content with  the  past.  An  excessive  admiration 
for  everything  foreign  is,  indeed,  by  no  means 
a  new  Spanish  characteristic ;  more  than  a 
century  ago  it  was  said  that  every  educated 
Spaniard  speaks  ill  of  his  own  country ;  and 
to-day  an  Anarchist  writes  from  Barcelona  that 
"  in  no  country  have  the  workers  shaken  off 
prejudice  and  tradition  so  completely  as  in 
Spain."  It  would  be  surprising  indeed  if  that 
spirit  of  restless  adventure  which  enabled 
Spaniards  to  add  America  to  the  world,  while 
the  Portuguese  of  the  same  Iberian  race  were 
unveiling  India  and  the  farther  East,  had  com- 
pletely died  out  with  the  days  of  great  adventure. 
The  Spaniard,  even  the  Spaniard  of  the  people, 
is  eager  for  reform.  The  more  or  less  philo- 
sophical Republicanism,  so  frequently  found  in 


6  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Spain,  as  well  as  the  Anarchism — a  peaceful  and 
humanitarian  Anarchism  for  the  most  part — 
which  flourishes  to  a  greater  extent  in  Spain 
than  elsewhere,  alike  testify  to  this  desire.  The 
newspaper  press  of  Spain — especially  as  repre- 
sented by  the  Heraldo  of  Madrid  and  the  new 
Republican  journal,  La  Nueva  Espana  —  is 
enlightened  and  intelligent,  in  the  best  sense 
Liberal.  The  fermenting  discontent  with  sacer- 
dotal bigotry,  and  especially  with  the  extreme 
developments  of  monasticism,  which  has  spread 
among  all  classes  in  the  country,  even  leading  to 
restriction  of  the  freedom  of  public  religious 
processions — notwithstanding  the  firm  manner 
in  which  the  Church  is  here  rooted — is  another 
sign  of  the  same  kind,  strikingly  manifested  a 
few  years  ago  when  the  Electra  of  the  popular 
author  Galdos  was  performed  amid  opposing 
demonstrations  of  popular  feeling  all  over  Spain ; 
it  is  not  necessarily  a  movement  hostile  to  the 
Church,  certainly  not  in  so  far  as  Galdos  is  its 
representative,  but  it  demands  a  purified  and 
humanised  Catholicism  which  shall  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  claims  of  Nature  and  of  social 
progress.  The  bull-fight,  again,  the  national 
pastime  of  Spain — long  a  mark  for  opprobrium 
among  English-speaking  peoples,  always  so  keen 
to  see  the  mote  in  other  people's  eyes — no  longer 
meets  with  universal  acceptance,  and  lately,  with 
the  approval  of  many  prominent   toreadors,  a 


INTRODUCTION  7 

movement  has  begun  for  the  mitigation  of  its 
more  offensive  features. 

In  all  the  practical  appliances  of  domestic 
and  working  life,  although  it  is  the  Spaniard's 
instinct  to  cultivate  an  austere  simplicity,  he 
is  yet  adopting  the  devices  and  appliances  of 
more  advanced  nations,  while  in  cleanliness 
and  convenience  a  Spanish  city  usually  com- 
pares favourably  with  a  Proven9al  city/  The 
Spaniard  is  honest ;  he  is  sometimes  a  little  slow 
of  comprehension ;  he  is  proverbially  proud  of  his 
country's  ancient  glory,  but  is  at  the  same  time 
deeply  convinced  that  Spain  has  fallen  behind  in 
the  race  of  civilisation,  and  he  is  eager  to  see  her 
again  to  the  front.  I  find  the  typical  Spaniard 
of  to-day  in  an  Aragonese  peasant,  elderly  but 
lithe,  whom  I  lately  saw  jump  from  the  train  at 
a  little  country  station  to  examine  a  very  com- 
plicated French  agricultural  machine  drawn  up 
in  a  siding ;  he  looked  at  it  above  and  below 
with  wrinkled  brows  and  intent  eyes ;  he  ran  all 
round  it ;  he  clearly  could  not  quite  make  it  out, 
but  there  was  no  flippancy  or  indifference  in  his 
attitude  towards  this  new  strange  thing ;  he 
would  never  rest,  one  felt,  until  he  reached 
the  meaning  of  it.  And  many  of  us  will  regret 
that  in  this  eager  thirst  for  novelties  the  Spaniard 

^  Peyron  in  1777  drew  a  very  unattractive  picture  of  tlie  posadas 
whicli  nearly  everywhere  were  the  only  available  kind  of  hostelry  ; 
they  were  expensive,  having  to  pay  high  rents  ;  they  were  forbidden 
by  law  to  supply  any  kind  of  food,  and  bedsteads  were  usually  absent. 


8  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

will  cast  aside  not  a  few  of  the  things  which  now 
draw  us  to  Spain. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  attitude  of 
the  Spaniard  of  to-day,  inevitable  in  any  case, 
has  been  greatly  increased  by  the  war.  Thought- 
ful observers  of  great  movements  have  often  felt 
that  the  old  cry  "  Vse  victis ! "  requires  very 
serious  and  even  radical  modification.  This  feel- 
ing was  indeed  long  ago  expressed  by  Calderon 
in  his  Magico  Prodigioso  : — 

More 
The  battle's  loss  may  profit  those  who  lose 
Than  victory  advantage  those  who  win. 

In  many  a  war  it  has  been  the  vanquished,  not 
fche  victor,  who  has  carried  off  the  finest  spoils. 
Cuba  and  the  Philippines  have  been  like  a 
tumour  in  the  side  of  Spain  and  dragged  her 
down  in  the  race  of  civilisation.  They  have 
drained  her  life-blood  and  disturbed  all  her 
national  activities.  Only  a  serious  surgical 
operation  could  remove  this  exhausting  excres- 
cence, and  Spaniards  themselves  have  been  the 
first  to  recognise  that  the  operation,  though 
painful,  was  in  the  highest  degree  beneficial. 
Not  even  the  most  patriotic  of  Spaniards  dreams 
of  regaining  these  lost  possessions.  There  was 
indeed  a  passing  moment  of  exasperation  against 
Columbus  for  having  discovered  the  New  World, 
— on  one  occasion  the  mob  stoned  the  Columbus 
statue  at  Barcelona, — but  the  war  was  scarcely 


INTRODUCTION  9 

over  before  Unamuno  referred  to  it  as  that 
famous  encounter  between  Robinson  Crusoe  and 
Don  Quixote  over  an  island.  The  war  has  been 
beneficial  in  at  least  two  different  ways.  It  has 
had  a  healthy  economical  influence  because, 
besides  directing  the  manhood  of  Spain  into 
sober  industrial  channels,  it  has  led  to  the 
removal  of  artificial  restrictions  in  the  path  of 
commercial  activity.  It  has  been  advantageous 
morally  because  it  has  forced  even  the  most 
narrow  and  ignorant  Spaniard  to  face  the  actual 
facts  of  the  modern  world. 

It  can  scarcely  be  expected  that  the  lover  of 
Spain  should  view  this  new  movement  of  progress 
and  reform  with  unmitigated  satisfaction.  No 
traveller  will  complain  that  Spanish  hotel-keepers 
are  beginning  to  obtain  their  sanitary  fittings 
from  England,  or  that  clerical  and  secular  authori- 
ties alike  are  putting  down  the  national  vice  of 
spitting.  But  the  stranger  can  feel  no  enthusi- 
asm  when  he  finds  that  similar  zeal  is  exercised 
in  suppressing,  on  the  slightest  pretext,  the 
national  dances,  unique  in  Europe  for  their 
grace  and  charm  and  ancient  descent,  or  in 
discarding  the  beautiful  and  becoming  national 
costumes.  It  is  a  little  depressing  to  find  a 
cinematographic  show  set  up  in  the  market-place 
of  even  the  remotest  cities,  to  hear  the  squeak 
of  the  gramophone  where  one  has  once  heard 
the  haunting  wail  of  the  malaguena,  or  to  have 


10  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

to  admit  that  the  barrel-organ  is  taking  the  place 
of  the  guitar.  Civilisation  is  good,  and  progress 
is  necessary  for  any  people.  But  "  civilisation" 
and  "  progress  "  mean  much  more  than  a  feverish 
thirst  for  new  things  or  a  mad  race  for  wealth, 
and  some  of  us  think  that,  however  salutary  the 
lessons  that  Spain  may  learn  from  the  more 
prosperous  nations  of  to-day,  there  are  still  more 
salutary  lessons  in  the  art  of  living  which  these 
nations  may  learn  from  Spain.  One  would 
grieve  to  see  that  in  the  attempt  to  purify  her 
national  currency  Spain  should  cast  away  her 
gold  with  her  dross. 

A  nation  that  is  alive  must  needs  borrow 
from  other  nations.  The  process  is  vital  and 
altogether  beneficial  so  long  as  the  borrowed 
elements  are  duly  subordinated  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  national  genius.  A  nation  that  in 
its  anxiety  to  reach  the  level  of  other  more 
prosperous  peoples  moulds  itself  servilely  on  their 
ways  and  lets  go  the  hold  of  its  own  traditions, 
condemns  itself  to  hopeless  mediocrity.  To  be  a 
great  and  fruitful  power  in  the  world  a  nation 
must  be  true  to  its  own  instincts,  and  in  Spain, 
it  is  well  to  remember,  we  have  a  people  of  very 
tenacious  and  independent  fibre,  crushed  but 
not  destroyed  by  centuries  of  misrule  and  the 
enfeeblement  of  the  autonomous  political  apti- 
tude it  once  possessed. 

The  Spaniard  indeed,  we  may  admit,  always 


INTRODUCTION  11 

is — and  except  to  some  extent  in  Catalonia 
perlaaps  always  will  be — essentially  unbusiness- 
like, as  we  Anglo-Saxons  reckon  business.  If 
we  enter  a  Spanish  shop,  as  likely  as  not  no  one 
will  be  forthcoming  to  attend  to  our  wants ;  on 
going  into  a  cafe  it  may  be  difficult  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  two  waiters  who  are  too 
deeply  absorbed  in  their  game  of  chess  to  be 
conscious  of  any  external  distraction.  Business 
has  never  seemed  in  Spain  to  be  the  highest  end 
of  man.  "The  grandest  enterprises,"  Ganivet 
makes  Hernan  Cortes  say,  in  justification  of  the  old 
Spanish  adventurers,  "  are  those  in  which  money 
has  no  part,  and  the  cost  falls  entirely  on  the 
brain  and  heart."  The  Spaniard  is  constitution- 
ally incapable  of  accepting  the  delusion  that  the 
best  things  in  the  world  may  be  bought  by 
money,  or  that  a  man's  wealth  consists  in  the 
abundance  of  his  possessions.^  That  is  why,  in  a 
passing  phase  of  civilisation,  the  Spaniard  seems 
to  belong  to  the  past ;  and  that  is  why,  to  some 
observers,  he  seems  to  belong  also  to  the 
future. 

When  I  first  entered  Spain  I  said  to  myself 
that  here  was  a  land  where  the  manners  and 

^  "  I  will  say  for  the  Spaniards,"  Borrow  wrote  in  The  Bible  in 
Spain,  *'  that  in  their  social  intercourse  no  people  in  the  world  exhibit 
a  juster  feeling  of  what  is  due  to  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  or 
better  understand  the  behaviour  which  it  behoves  a  man  to  adopt 
towards  his  fellow-beings.  It  is  one  of  the  few  countries  in  Europe 
where  poverty  is  not  treated  with  contempt,  and,  I  may  add,  where 
the  wealthy  are  not  blindly  idolised." 


12  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

customs  of  mediaeval  Europe  still  survived.^ 
Spain  seemed  in  many  respects  to  be  about  three 
hundred  years  behind  the  age.  Now,  when  all 
things  are  in  flux,  it  is  pleasant  to  find  that  that 
early  impression  need  not  be  absolutely  effaced. 
Spain  is  still  the  most  democratic  of  countries. 
The  familiar  and  intimate  relationship  which  we 
know  in  the  old  comedies  of  Europe  as  subsisting 
between  master  and  servant,  between  gentleman 
and  peasant,  is  still  universal.  The  waiter,  even 
in  your  modern  hotel  a  few  paces  from  the 
Puerta  del  Sol,  pats  you  on  the  back  with 
friendly  intimacy  as  you  step  out  of  the  lift  on 
the  day  after  your  arrival,  and  every  low-class 
Spaniard  expects,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  be 
treated  as   an  equal.^     We  are  not   unfamiliar 

^  Stendhal  made  the  same  remark  nearly  a  century  ago.  "  I 
regard  the  Spanish  people,"  he  says  [De  V Amour,  ch.  xlvii.),  "as  the 
living  representatives  of  the  Middle  Ages.  They  are  ignorant  of  many 
small  truths  of  which  their  neighbours  are  childishly  vain,  but  they 
know  deeply  the  great  truths,  and  they  have  the  character  and 
intelligence  to  follow  them  out  to  their  most  remote  conclusions. 
Spanish  character  forms  a  fine  opposition  to  French  intelligence  ;  hard, 
brusque,  scarcely  elegant,  full  of  savage  pride,  not  concerned  with  the 
opinions  of  others,  it  is  exactly  the  contrast  of  the  fifteenth  century 
with  the  eighteenth." 

2  In  1821  Pecchio  wrote  in  his  interesting  letters  from  Spain ; 
•'  When  the  Spaniard  presents  himself  before  a  powerful  personage  he 
does  not  bend  like  a  reed  or  stammer  and  become  embarrassed  ;  he 
salutes  him  and  behaves  as  a  man  should  before  a  fellow-man.  When 
I  travelled  through  Spain  with  the  Minister,  Bardaxi,  the  post- 
masters and  alcaldes  of  the  smallest  villages,  after  saluting  him  with 
natural  frankness,  sat  beside  him,  asked  him  questions,  lighted  their 
cigars  at  the  Minister's,  and  in  the  warmth  of  conversation  frequently 
slapped  him  on  the  shoulders." 


INTRODUCTION  13 

with  that  attitude  in  more  progressive  countries, 
but  the  Spaniard  shows  that  he  is  entitled  to 
courtesy  by  knowing  how  to  return  it,  and  that 
is  a  phenomenon  we  are  less  familiar  with. 
There  is  among  Spanish  people  a  friendly  trust- 
fulness towards  all,  even  towards  strangers  and 
foreigners,  which  belongs  to  an  age  when  no  fear 
was  necessary ;  the  man  of  progressive  civilisa- 
tion is  always  prepared  to  be  suspicious ;  he 
scrutinises  a  stranger  carefully  and  feels  his  way 
slowly.  That  outcome  of  modern  progress  seems 
unknown  to  the  Spanish  man  or  woman ;  it  is 
always  assumed  that  your  attitude  is  friendly, 
and  on  the  strength  of  this  trustfulness  even  the 
instinct  of  modesty  or  the  not  less  instinctive 
fear  of  ridicule  seems  in  Spain  to  become  slightly 
modified. 

We  realise  how  far  we  are  from  the  present 
when  we  enter  a  Spanish  church.  The  ecstatic 
attitude  of  devotion  which  the  worshippers 
sometimes  fall  into  without  thought  of  any 
observer  is  equally  unlike  the  elegant  grace  of 
the  French  worshipper  or  the  rigid  decorum  of 
the  English,  while  perhaps,  if  it  is  a  great 
festival,  groups  of  women  cluster  on  the  ground 
with  their  fans  at  the  base  of  the  piers,  and 
children  quietly  play  about  in  corners  with 
unchecked  and  innocent  freedom.  Nor  are  the 
dogs  and  cats  less  free  than  the  children  ;  at 
Tudela  I  have  even  seen  a  dog  curled  up  in  the 


14  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

most  comfortable  chair  by  the  high  altar, 
probably  left  in  charge  of  the  church,  for  he 
raised  his  head  in  a  watchful  manner  when  the 
stranger  entered  ;  and  in  Gerona  Cathedral  there 
was  a  cat  who  would  stroll  about  in  front  of  the 
capilla  mayor  during  the  progress  of  mass, 
receiving  the  caresses  of  the  passers-by.  It 
would  be  a  serious  mistake  to  see  here  any 
indifference  to  religion ;  on  the  contrary,  this 
easy  familiarity  with  sacred  things  is  simply  the 
attitude  of  those  who  in  Wordsworth's  phrase 
"  lie  in  Abraham's  bosom  all  the  year,"  and  do 
not,  as  often  among  ourselves,  enter  a  church 
once  a  week  to  prove  how  severely  respectable, 
for  the  example  of  others,  they  can  on  occasion 
show  themselves  to  be.  It  was  thus  that  our 
own  ancestors,  whose  faith  was  assuredly  less 
questioning  than  ours,  made  themselves  at  home 
in  the  aisles  of  Old  St.  Paul's. 

It  would  be  easy  to  enumerate  many  details 
of  life  in  Spain  which  remind  us  of  a  past  we 
have  long  left  behind.  Pepys  in  seventeenth- 
century  London  days  went  out  to  a  tavern  for 
his  "  morning  draught,"  which  was  sometimes 
chocolate,  and  in  the  smaller  hotels  of  Andalusia 
one  is  still  expected  to  do  the  same.  Our  fore- 
fathers in  Shakespeare's  day  were  familiar  with 
the  fact  that  "  good  wine  needs  no  bush,"  and 
we  are  reminded  of  that  fact  when,  as  in  Tarra- 
gona, we  everywhere  see  great  clumps  of  green 


INTRODUCTION  15 

bushes,  usually  fir  branches  with  their  cones, 
suspended  over  the  doors  of  low-class  wine 
shops.  The  England  of  Chaucer  and  the  ballads 
was  familiar  with  the  wandering  figure  of  the 
palmer  with  his  cockle-shells.  Once  on  arriving 
at  Zamora  I  found  myself  walking  behind  a  dark, 
quiet,  bearded  man,  evidently  just  arrived  from 
Compostela,  who  had  several  large  scollop  shells 
fastened  to  the  back  of  his  cloak,  and  two  or 
three  little  twisted  shells  hanging  from  the  top 
of  the  traditional  palmer's  stafi"  he  bore,  an  ancient 
figure  one  supposed  had  passed  from  the  earth 
five  centuries  ago,  walking  through  the  streets  of 
a  modern  city,  and  not  even  attracting  the  atten- 
tion of  the  bold  and  familiar  children  of  Zamora. 
It  is  pleasant  to  feel  that  such  evidences  of  the 
community  of  Old  Spain  with  a  world — in  many 
respects  an  excellent  world — from  which  we 
have  ourselves  emerged  have  not  yet  ceased  to 
exist.  When  we  pass  out  of  the  beaten  tracks 
we  still  come  in  touch  with  it  almost  everywhere 
in  Spain.  The  stranger  cannot  perhaps  more 
easily  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  true  and  ancient 
Spain  than  by  acquiring  the  habit  of  travelling 
third-class.  The  seats,  indeed,  are  hard,  but  the 
company  usually  is  excellent,  charming  in  its 
manners,  and  not  offensive  to  any  sense.  Here 
a  constant  series  of  novel  pictures  is  presented 
to  the  traveller,  who  may  quietly  study  them  at 
leisure.     Perhaps  it  is  a  dozen  merry  girls  on 


16  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

their  way  to  a  festival,  packed  tiglitly  together 
and  laden  with  packages  ;  some,  the  more  sedate 
among  them,  wear  mantillas,  some  bright  hand- 
kerchiefs on  their  heads  or  with  hair  uncovered, 
but  however  they  are  dressed,  to  whatever  class 
they  belong,  they  are  all  clean  and  sweet.  They 
carefully  tie  to  the  racks  the  little  bunches  of 
carnations  they  bear — Spanish  women  always 
treat  carnations  tenderly — and  give  themselves 
up  to  unrestrained  chatter  and  laughter;  their 
voices  are  apt  to  be  somewhat  piercingly  vibrant 
and  metallic,  but  their  delight  is  good  to  see ; 
the  younger  girls,  at  the  climax  of  their  glee, 
will  perhaps  stand  up  and  flutter  their  arms  like 
wings,  and  the  elder  women,  if  any  there  be,  join 
in  with  only  more  restrained  enjoyment.  Or 
perhaps  it  is  a  less  crowded  carriage  one  enters ; 
there  are  two  middle-class  Spaniards  and  a 
peasant  group  of  three  :  a  fat,  jolly,  middle-aged 
man  in  a  peasant's  costume,  but  clean  and  new, 
almost  stylish  ;  a  woman  of  like  age,  one  of  those 
free,  robust,  kindly  women  whom  Spain  produces 
so  often  ;  and  a  pretty  bare-headed  girl,  evidently 
her  daughter,  though  the  man  seems  a  friend  or 
relation  who  is  escorting  them  on  their  journey. 
By  and  by,  when  we  have  been  some  hours  on 
our  journey,  he  lifts  from  the  seat  in  front  of  him 
the  large,  heavy,  embroidered  wallet, — that  al- 
forja  which  Sancho  Panza  was  always  so  anxious 
to  keep  well  filled, — unwinds  it,  draws  out  one 


INTRODUCTION  17 

of  the  great  flat  delicious   Spanish   loaves   and 
throws  it  in  the  woman's  lap.     Then  a  dish  of 
stewed  meat  appears,  and  the  bread  is  cut  into 
slices  which  serve  as  plates  for  the  meat.     But 
before    the    meal   is   begun   the   peasant   turns 
round  with  a  hearty  "  Gusta  ? "    It  is  the  invita- 
tion  to  share  in  the   feast  which   every  polite 
Spaniard   must    make    even    to    strangers  who 
happen  to  be  present,  and  it  is  as  a  matter  of 
course    politely    refused:     "Muchas    gracias.''^ 
Before  long  the    black    leather   wine -bottle  is 
produced   from    the  wallet,  and  the  meal  pro- 
ceeds.    At  its  final  stage  some  kind  of  sweet- 
meat appears,  and  small  fragments  are  offered  to 
the  two  middle-class  Spaniards,  and  then — with 
a  slight  half-movement,  expressing  a  fine  courtesy 
restrained  by  the  fear  of  ofi'ering  any  ofi'ensive 
attention — to  the  foreign  cahallero  also.     It  is 
not  improper  to  accept  this  time  ;  and  now  the 
leather  bottle  is  handed  round,  and  the  middle- 
class  Spaniards   avail   themselves  of  it,  though 
with  awkward  unfamiliarity,  for  it  requires  some 
skill  to  drink  from  this  vessel  with  grace.  ^     You 

1  The  origin  of  this  invitation,  which  has  survived  in  Spain  alone 
of  European  civilised  countries,  is  magical.  "  In  Morocco,"  Wester- 
marck  observes  {The  Origin  aivd  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  vol.  i. 
p.  561),  "nobody  would  like  to  eat  in  the  presence  of  other  people 
without  sharing  his  meal  with  them  ;  otherwise  they  might  poison 
his  food  by  looking  at  it  with  an  evil  eye."  Similar  ideas  are  found 
among  primitive  peoples  elsewhere. 

2  One  of  the  best  passages  in  Ford's  Gatherings  from  Spain 
(chap,  ix.)  deals  with  the  leather  bottle  or  iota,  the  true  and 
original  bottle. 

C 


18  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

carefully  fold  over  the  belly  of  the  vessel  to  the 
angle  demanded  by  the  state  of  its  repletion, 
and  as  you  apply  the  mouthpiece  to  your  lips 
you  slowly  elevate  your  eyes  towards  the  zenith. 
The  two  Spaniards  quietly  remark  to  each  other 
that  the  wine  is  of  first-class  quality,  and  even 
without  such  an  assurance  one  would  know  that 
that  peasant  never  drank  anything  that  was  not 
of  superior  quality.  Once  more  one  enters  a 
carriage,  this  time  second-class,  where  sits  a 
charming  and  beautiful  Spanish  lady  with  her 
child,  opposite  to  a  man  who,  with  little  success, 
is  paying  attention  to  the  child  with  the  object 
of  opening  up  conversation  with  the  mother. 
Two  black-robed  monks  enter.  They  do  not 
look  at  the  pretty  lady,  they  seem  unconscious 
of  her  presence,  and  the  elder  of  the  two,  a  man 
of  gentle  refined  face,  alone  greets  us  with  the 
customary  "  Good-day."  The  other  brother, 
wearing  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  is  a  larger  man 
of  more  stolid  and  impassive  type,  evidently  of 
lower  grade  in  the  order.  The  two  exchange 
very  few  words  in  the  course  of  their  three 
hours'  journey,  and  it  is  always  the  elder  and 
more  intelligent  man  who  takes  the  initiative. 
He  sits  with  folded  hands,  quietly  but  alertly 
interested  in  every  smallest  incident,  while  the 
younger  man  having  placed  his  spectacles  on  the 
seat  beside  him,  leans  back,  calmly  vegetative, 
with  arms  folded  within  his  sleeves.     After  a 


INTRODUCTION  19 

while  the  other,  with  gentle  feminine  fingers, 
touches  him  softly  on  the  arm  without  a  word. 
He  understands,  and  produces  a  bundle  fastened 
in  a  knotted  blue  check  handkerchief.  I  imagine 
for  a  moment  that  the  holy  men  are  about  to 
partake  of  a  frugal  repast ;  but  the  bundle 
contains  a  large  book  of  devotions,  which  the 
elder  monk  reads  for  a  short  time  and  then 
fastens  again  in  the  bundle  and  pushes  towards 
his  companion  as  its  recognised  guardian.  A 
little  girl  enters  the  carriage  with  her  small 
basket ;  the  elder  monk  looks  at  her  with  affec- 
tionate interest,  and  when  she  passes  him  to  get 
out  at  the  next  station  he  smiles  sweetly  at  her, 
speaking  a  few  words,  to  which  she  responds 
with  an  "  Adios."  I  seem  to  see  here  typified 
the  two  varieties  into  which  the  discipline  of  the 
cloister  moulds  men — the  sensitively  feminine 
and  the  listlessly  vegetative.  The  whole  of  the 
lives  of  these  men  has  marked  itself  upon  them. 
I  realise  how  true  are  the  words  of  the  wise 
physician,  that  "  from  him  who  has  eyes  to  see 
and  ears  to  hear  no  mortal  can  hide  his  secret ; 
he  whose  lips  are  silent  chatters  with  his  finger- 
tips and  betrays  himself  through  all  his  pores," 

If  I  were  asked  to  sum  up  the  dominant 
impression  that  the  survival  in  Spain  of  old- 
world  medisevalism  makes,  I  should  say  that 
Spain  is,  in  the  precise  and  specific  sense  of 
the  word,  the  home  of  romance.     The  special 


20  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

character  of  the  Spanish  temperament  and  of 
Spanish  developments  in  literature  and  in  art 
are  marked  not  by  classic  feeling — though  Spain 
owed  so  much  to  ancient  Rome  and  Rome  to 
Spain — but  by  a  quality,  rising  and  sinking  with 
the  rise  and  fall  of  Gothic,  which  we  call  the 
romantic  spirit  —  a  mixture,  that  is,  of  the 
mysterious  and  grandiose  with  the  grotesquely 
bizarre,  of  the  soaringly  ideal  with  the  crudely 
real,  a  mixture  which  to  us  to-day  has  the 
cunning  fascination  of  art,  but  was  really  on 
both  sides  the  natural  outcome  of  the  experi- 
ences and  feelings  of  the  men  who  created  it. 
This  romantic  spirit  was  once  the  common 
possession  of  all  Christendom,  but  the  Spanish 
temperament  peculiarly  lent  itself  to  the  romantic 
attitude,  and  it  is  in  Spain  to-day  that  we  may 
catch  its  final  vanishing  echoes.  It  was  certainly 
no  accident  that  Victor  Hugo,  the  great  repre- 
sentative of  the  romantic  renaissance  in  France, 
went  to  Spain  for  his  inspiration.  It  is  some- 
times said,  and  with  truth,  that  Hugo  had  but 
a  slight  knowledge  of  Spain :  he  went  there 
as  a  child  of  ten,  that  was  all.  But  this  child 
of  precocious  genius  was  able  even  at  that 
age  to  receive  impressions  strong  enough  to 
germinate  in  the  fulness  of  time.  The  whole 
of  the  earlier  and  more  fruitful  period  of  his 
work  may  be  said  to  have  been  touched  by  the 
stimulus  which  came  to  Victor  Hugo  from  Spain. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

To-day  it  is  the  Churcli,  always  tlie  most 
powerful  stronghold  of  tradition  among  any 
people,  where  the  stranger  may  most  vividly 
realise  how  well  the  romantic  spirit  has  been 
preserved  in  Spain.  Notwithstanding  invasions 
from  without  and  revolutions  from  within, 
especially  during  the  early  years  of  the  last 
century,  Spain  is  still  the  country  where  the 
mediaeval  spirit  of  romantic  devotion  is  most 
splendidly  embodied  and  preserved.  To  the 
English  visitor,  in  whose  churches  nearly  every 
beautiful  thing  that  royal  despoilers  had  left 
was  battered  and  broken  by  still  more  energetic 
Puritans,  it  is  a  perpetual  miracle  to  find  so 
much  delicate  work  from  remote  ages  which  has 
never  been  ravaged  by  revolutionists  or  restorers. 
Moreover,  there  is  no  style  of  architecture  which 
so  admirably  embodies  the  romantic  spirit  as 
Spanish  Gothic.  Such  a  statement  implies  no 
heresy  against  the  supremacy  of  French  Gothic. 
But  the  very  qualities  of  harmony  and  balance, 
of  finely  tempered  reason,  which  make  French 
Gothic  so  exquisitely  satisfying,  softened  the 
combination  of  mysteriously  grandiose  splendour 
with  detailed  realism  in  which  lies  the  essence 
of  Gothic  as  the  manifestation  of  the  romantic 
spirit.  Spanish  Gothic,  at  once  by  its  massive- 
ness  and  extravagance  and  by  its  realistic 
naturalness,  far  more  potently  embodies  the 
spirit  of  mediaeval  life.     It  is  less  aesthetically 


22  THE  SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

beautiful,  but  it  is  more  romantic.  In  Leon 
Cathedral  Spain  possesses  one  of  the  very  noblest 
and  purest  examples  of  French  Gothic,  a  church 
which  may  almost  be  said  to  be  the  supreme 
type  of  the  Gothic  ideal  of  a  delicate  house  of 
glass  finely  poised  between  buttresses,  but  there 
is  nothing  Spanish  about  it.  For  the  typical 
Gothic  of  Spain  we  must  go  to  Toledo  and 
Burgos,  to  Tarragona  and  Barcelona.  Here  we 
find  the  elements  of  stupendous  size,  of  mys- 
terious gloom,  of  grotesque  and  yet  realistic 
energy  which  are  the  dominant  characters 
alike  of  Spanish  architecture  and  of  mediseval 
romance.  We  find  the  same  characters  in  every 
object  which  subserves  the  Church  service  and 
ritual.  The  Spaniard  has  no  fine  instinct  for 
the  aesthetic,  but  in  the  sphere  of  devotion  his 
romantic  instinct  is  always  right.  The  gloom 
which  pervades  Spanish  churches  —  so  unlike 
French  churches,  which  are  a  blaze  of  light — 
has  its  source  in  the  need  for  tempering  the 
glare  of  the  southern  sun.  But  this  gloom  is 
finely  subdued  to  the  purposes  of  devotion, 
and  exquisitely  tempered  not  only  by  windows 
which  are  always  painted,  but  by  the  use  of 
candles  as  the  only  source  of  artificial  illumina- 
tion. Though  here  and  there,  as  in  Toledo 
Cathedral,  we  find  the  hideous  French  device 
of  the  electric  light  that  pretends  to  be  a  candle, 
Spaniards  still   understand   not   only   that   the 


INTRODUCTION  23 

candle  is  the  illuminant  which  symbolically  best 
lends  itself  to  Christian  worship,  but  that  the 
full  and  equable  illumination  necessary  to  reveal 
the  symmetry  of  classic  buildings  is  worse  than 
useless  in  this  more  mysterious  Gothic  art  which 
demands  the  emphasis  of  its  perspective,  the 
broken  play  of  light  and  shade. ^ 

The  affinity  of  the  Spaniard  for  the  romantic 
spirit  is  far  from  being — in  the  common  sense 
of  the  word  "romantic" — the  expression  of 
a  superficial  sentimentality.  The  chivalry 
peculiarly  identified  with  Spain — the  chivalry 
embodied  in  the  conception  of  the  Cid,  which 
finally  drove  the  Moor  out  of  Spain — however 
fantastic  and  extravagant  it  sometimes  became, 
was  stern  in  its  ideals  and  very  practical  in  its 
achievements.  And  alike  in  its  practical  and 
its  fantastic  shapes,  it  was  always  peculiarly 
congenial  to  the  temper  of  the  Spaniard.  When 
Loyola,  the  knight  of  a  new  chivalry,  watched 
over  the  weapons  of  his  spiritual  armour  in  his 
long  vigil  at  Monserrat,  he  was  not  artificially 
aping   the  knight   of  old  -  world   chivalry,    but 

^  The  candle,  as  has  been  said  by  a  writer  on  "  Christmas  as  the 
Feast  of  Candles"  {Gentleman s  Magazine,  December  1906),  is  the 
true  symbol  of  the  link  between  the  soul  of  man  and  the  Unseen. 
Spain  has  always  been  noted  for  its  devotion  to  candles,  and  is  "not 
only  the  land  of  sunshine  but  the  land  of  candle-light."  Nowhere 
has  the  use  of  tapers  in  worship  been  so  highly  developed.  More  than 
fifteen  centuries  ago  the  Synod  of  Elvira  condemned  the  Spanish 
custom  of  burning  candles  in  cemeteries,  apparently  regarding  it  as  a 
relic  of  witchcraft,  but  the  custom  has  none  the  k'SS  persisted  even  till 
now  on  All  Saints'  Day. 


24  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

naturally  satisfying  the  spiritual  instinct  of  a 
true  Spaniard. 

Interwoven  with  the  manifestations  of  the 
romantic  spirit  of  Spain,  indeed  a  part  of  its 
texture,  there  is  a  perpetual  insistence  on  suffer- 
ing and  death.  A  certain  indifference  to  pain, 
even  a  positive  delight  in  it,  was  long  ago 
observed  by  Strabo  to  mark  the  Iberian.  And 
the  deliberate  insistence  on  the  thought  of  death, 
so  congenial  to  the  ethical  temper  of  this  people 
that,  it  has  been  said,  the  Spaniard  has  a  natural 
passion  for  suicide,  has  always  been  a  note  of  the 
romantic  mood.  But  while  the  favourite  medi- 
aeval conception  of  the  dance  of  death,  peculiarly 
at  home  in  Spain, ^  has  elsewhere  passed  out  of 
the  living  traditions  of  European  peoples,  in 
Spain  the  naked  lugubrious  fact  of  death  is  still 
made  part  of  the  lesson  of  daily  life.  '' Hie  jacet 
pulvis,  cinis,  nihil "  :  that  inscription  in  huge 
letters  which  alone  serves  to  mark  the  grave  of 
a  great  Archbishop  on  the  pavement  of  Toledo 
Cathedral,  well  expresses  the  Spaniard's  haughty 
humility.  The  Escorial,  again,  the  Royal  Spanish 
Temple  to  Death,  is  unique  in  its  elaborate  and 

^  The  anonymous  Spanish  Danza  de  la  Muerte  of  the  fourteenth 
century  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  known  Macabre  Dance  legend.  Emile 
Male,  however,  who  has  written  an  interesting  study  on  the  Dance 
of  Death,  and  the  fascination  exerted  by  the  idea  of  Death  in 
mediaeval  Europe  after  the  thirteenth  century  (Revue  des  Deux  Mondes, 
April  1906),  regards  the  Dance  of  Death  as  an  entirely  French  concep 
tion,  though  he  thinks  its  origin  may  probably  be  traced  to  Franciscan 
or  Doniiiiican  influence. 


INTRODUCTION  25 

impressive  circumstances ;  the  ruling  Spanish 
monarch  may  here  descend  the  dark  marble 
staircase  to  the  little  vault  below  the  high  altar, 
to  view  in  its  own  small  niche  the  sarcophagus 
which  was  prepared  for  him  centuries  before  he 
was  born.  Even  in  Spain  there  is  nothing  more 
impressive  than  this  huge  Escorial,  the  grey  and 
sombre  Palace  of  Death,  which  Philip  built  on 
this  carefully  chosen  site,  in  the  lonely  village 
amid  the  grey  and  sombre  mountains.  And  in 
the  loftily  magnificent  pile  there  is  nothing  so 
impressive,  and  nothing  so  essentially  Spanish, 
as  the  little  suite  of  dark  rooms  with  its  plain 
furniture  which  the  greatest  and  richest  of  kings 
built  for  himself,  so  that  he  might  lie  on  his 
dying  bed  with  its  outlook  on  the  high  altar, 
fingering  the  same  crucifix  as  his  father,  the  still 
mightier  monarch,  Charles  V.,  also  held  when  he 
too  lay  dying,  in  the  same  Spanish  way,  gazing 
at  the  altar  in  the  Convent  of  Yuste.  Nowadays 
a  disconcerting  little  stream  of  cosmopolitan 
tourists  is  for  ever  passing  through  the  huge 
temple — gaily  dressed  ladies  from  every  clime, 
the  patient  Yankee  globe  -  trotter,  the  smug 
English  curate,  the  irrepressibly  cheerful  little 
Frenchman  who  stands  in  the  middle  of  the 
solemn  vault  of  the  dead  kings  and  quietly 
sums  up  his  impressions  :  "  C'est  joli,  ga  ! " — 
but  it  cannot  wash  away  the  deathly  solemnity 
of  this  ferocious  Escorial. 


26  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

The  Spaniard  broods  over  and  emphasises  the 
naked  majesty  of  death.  Very  far  from  him  is 
the  sunny  and  serene  saying  of  the  Spanish  Jew, 
Spinoza,  that  "There  is  nothing  the  wise  man 
thinks  of  less  than  of  death."  In  Barcelona 
Cathedral,  the  most  solemnly  impressive  model 
of  Catalan  architecture,  the  broad  and  stately 
entrance  to  the  crypt,  the  gloomy  house  of 
death,  is  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  church, 
between  the  capilla  mayor  and  the  choir.  Every 
Spanish  sacristan  seems  to  possess  a  well-polished 
skull  and  a  couple  of  thigh-bones,  with  which  to 
crown  the  catafalque  it  is  his  duty  to  erect — 
a  task  in  which  we  may  sometimes  find  him 
engaged  in  the  silent  church  at  twilight,  pre- 
paring for  the  funeral  ceremony  of  the  morrow. 
In  a  church  in  the  heart  of  the  city  of  Zamora  I 
have  found,  prominently  placed  on  a  pedestal,  a 
skeleton  of  fine  proportions  holding  an  hour- 
glass in  one  hand  and  a  scythe  in  the  other, 
while  high  on  the  interior  wall  of  Salamanca 
Cathedral  one  discerns  a  skeleton  of  lesser  pro- 
portions with  what  seems  to  be  the  skin  still 
clinging  to  the  bones. ^ 

^  Since  the  above  passage  was  written,  I  have  read  the  Espafia 
Negra  of  the  distinguished  Belgian  poet,  Emile  Verhaeren  (translated 
into  Spanish,  annotated,  and  illustrated  by  Dario  de  Regoyos,  who 
accompanied  the  poet  on  his  journey).  No  tourist  in  Spain  has  seen 
80  vividly  as  Verhaeren  the  sombre  violence  of  the  Spanish  tempera- 
ment, the  insistent  fascination  of  death,  showing  itself  in  the 
unlikeliest  places,  even  in  Andalusian  love -songs.  Few  tourists  in 
Spain  seem  to  note  these  things.     Even  Ford,  whose  Gatherings  from 


INTRODUCTION  27 

The  age  of  chivalry,  as  we  know,  is  over,  and 
the  romantic  spirit  is  rooted  in  conceptions  of 
life  and  death  which  are  not  able  to  flourish 
vitally  in  the  soil  of  our  time.  It  is  inevitable 
that,  however  firmly  the  mediaeval  idea  may 
have  persisted  in  Spain,  its  tendency  must  be  if 
not  to  die  out,  at  all  events  to  become  attenuated, 
overlaid,  at  the  least  transformed  in  its  manifest- 
ations. But  a  nation  that  at  one  moment  led 
the  world  and  has  always  shown  an  aptitude  for 
bringing  forth  great  personalities,  cannot  be 
hastily  dismissed  as  decadent,  unable  to  exert 
any  influence  on  human  affairs.  The  people  of 
Spain — still  sound  at  the  core,  and  with  a  vigour 
of  spirit  which  has  enabled  them  to  win  strength 
even  out  of  defeat — showed  at  one  period  at  least 
in  their  history,  from  the  conquest  of  Toledo  to 
the  conquest  of  Seville,  an  incomparable  strength, 
freedom,  and  vitality  ;  even  later,  Spain  still  had 
the  energy  to  find  and  to  colonise  the  other 
hemisphere  of  the  globe  ;  and  later  still,  to  bring 
spiritual  achievements  of  immortal  value  to  the 
treasure-house  of  humanity ;  while  the  forceful 
and  plastic  genius  of  Spain  has  moulded  one  of 
the  strongest  and  most  beautiful  forms  of  human 

Spain  is  so  delightful  and  iiitimato,  for  the  most  part  so  accurate  and 
well-documented  a  picture  of  Spanish  manners  and  customs,  shows  no 
sign  of  any  perception  of  the  tragically  intense  and  sombre  aspect  of 
Spain.  Verhaeren's  special  temperament  makes  him  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  this  side  of  the  Spanish  soul,  though  Espafia  Negra  can 
hardly  be  accepted  as  a  comj)!etely  adequate  picture  of  Spanish  life. 


28  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

speech  and  one  of  the  most  widely  diffused. 
The  soul  of  Spain  has  its  persistent  and  inde- 
structible fibre  inextricably  woven  into  human 
affairs.  It  has,  moreover,  its  own  special  seal, 
the  mark  of  a  lofty  and  unique  personality, 
which  we  cannot  too  patiently  and  reverently 
study  in  all  its  various  manifestations.  For  we 
are  but  now  growing  ready  to  receive  the  inspira- 
tions that  it  may  yield  us. 


II 

THE     SPANISH     PEOPLE 


It  has  been  said  that  a  Spaniard  resembles  the 
child  of  a  European  father  by  an  Abyssinian 
mother.  Whether  or  not  the  statement  is 
literally  true,  the  simile  may  be  accepted  as  a 
convenient  symbol  of  the  most  fundamental  facL 
about  Spain  and  her  people.  Just  as  Russia  and 
her  people  are  the  connecting  link  between 
Europe  and  Asia,  so  Spain  is  the  connecting  link 
between  Europe  and  the  African  continent  it 
was  once  attached  to  and  still  so  nearly  adjoins. 
That  is  the  cause  of  the  almost  savage  primitive- 
ness  and  violence  which  we  find  in  all  the 
burnt-brown  soil  of  Spain,  wherever  it  is  most 
characteristic,  and  of  the  independence,  equally 
savage  in  its  aboriginal  primitiveness,  which  we 
may  detect  in  the  temper  of  its  people.  Spain 
is  a  great  detached  fragment  of  Africa,  and  the 
Spaniard  is  the  first-born  child  of  the  ancient 

29 


30  THE  SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

white  North  African,  now  widely  regarded  as 
the  parent  of  the  chief  and  largest  element  in 
the  population  of  Europe.  That  is  why  the 
people  of  Spain  are  nearer  to  the  aboriginal 
European  racial  type,  as  Ripley  has  truly  said, 
than  are  the  people  of  any  other  civilised  land  in 
the  European  continent. 

The  Berbers  and  Kabyles,  hidden  among  the 
hills  of  Morocco  and  Algeria,  may  well  seem,  to 
one  who  has  lived  in  North  Africa,  to  have  a 
better  claim  than  any  other  people  to  represent 
the  primitive  European  stock.  In  appearance 
they  are  not  seldom  entirely  European ;  while 
often  as  dark  as  men  of  Cadiz  can  be,  they  might 
sometimes  also  pass  as  men  of  Aberdeen.  Physic- 
ally they  are  lithe  and  vigorous,  with  the  dignity 
that  comes  of  lithe  vigour.  In  character  they 
are  serious  yet  cheerful,  warlike  yet  according  a 
high  place  to  women,  extremely  independent,  and 
preferring  to  live  in  small,  clannish,  closely  knit 
communities,  jealous  or  hostile  toward  other 
social  units.  They  constitute  an  admirable 
human  material,  though  one  that  is  peculiarly 
difficult  to  tame  to  the  ends  of  civilisation.  In 
nearly  every  respect  the  Spaniard  seems  to  show 
traces  of  relationship  to  this  North  African  stock, 
which  he,  of  all  European  men,  most  closely 
resembles. 

It  is  now  generally  believed  that  the  Basques 
with    their   mysterious  language  represent   the 


THE   SPANISH  PEOPLE  31 

primitive  Iberians  of  Berber  stock.  Once,  as 
place-names  still  show,  this  language  was  spoken 
over  the  greater  part  of  Spain,  but  now,  in  a 
modified  shape,  it  is  confined  to  the  people  who 
inhabit  the  north-east  corner  of  Spain  and  the 
adjoining  region  in  France.  The  Basques  them- 
selves, as  Telesforo  de  Aranzadi  has  shown  in  a 
detailed  anthropological  study,  correspond  to  the 
primitive  Iberians  of  Berber  affinity,  though 
modified,  he  believes,  by  some  admixture  with 
people,  on  the  one  hand,  of  Lapp  and  Finn  type, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  Cymric  or  Germanic  type. 
Their  isolation  on  the  flanks  of  the  Pyrenees  has 
enabled  the  Basques  to  retain  their  ancient 
language  and  some  of  their  primitive  institutions, 
— as,  in  some  districts,  precedence  of  the  eldest 
daughter  over  all  the  sons  in  inheritance, — but 
the  Iberians  still,  it  is  probable,  form  the  funda- 
mental material  in  the  population  all  over  Spain. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  remarkable  and  significant  fact 
that  nearly  all  the  successful  historical  invasions 
of  Spain  have  been  carried  out  by  peoples  who 
were  of  North  African  or  allied  stock,  and  often 
very  largely  of  actual  Berber  race.  The  Car- 
thaginians, who  played  so  large  a  part  in  the 
early  history  of  Spain,  were  mainly,  it  is  prob- 
able, of  race  allied  to  the  Berbers.  The  Moslems, 
who  represent  by  far  the  most  important  invasion, 
reached  Spain  from  Morocco,  and  though  their 
leaders  often  came  from  farther  east,  the  bulk  of 


32  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

tlie  Moorisli  invaders  was  usually  made  up,  as 
the  name  indicates,  of  Berbers  from  Morocco ; 
so  that,  notwithstanding  the  age-long  warfare 
between  Spanish  Christianity  and  Moorish 
Islamism,  Spaniards  and  Moors  were  yet  in 
blood  closely  related.^ 

To  this  general  rule  there  were  two  notable 
exceptions.  The  Visigoths — a  Germanic  people 
of  Byzantine  civilisation  who  were  not  alto- 
gether typically  Teutonic — dominated  Spain  for 
several  centuries  and  then  more  or  less  melted 
away  into  the  underlying  mixed  Iberian  stock. 
Of  much  earlier  occurrence — before  the  fifth 
century  B.C.,  according  to  Jubainville — was  the 
invasion  of  the  Asiatic  and  mid-European  Celts, 
who  are  still  easy  to  trace  in  the  Iberian  penin- 
sula, though  much  mixed  with  Iberian  elements, 
by  their  shorter  heads.  They  probably  entered 
from  France — where  they  are  still  firmly  en- 
trenched among  the  mountains  of  Auvergne — 
and  being  unable  to  dislodge  the  tenacious 
inhabitants  of  the  Pyrenean  heights,  were  com- 

^  The  readiness  with  which  so  obstinate  and  pugnacious  a  race  as 
the  Spaniards  received  the  Moslem  invaders  and  made  terms  with 
them,  in  large  numbers  even  embracing  Mohammedanism  (being  then 
termed  Muladies),  shows  that  they  regarded  them  as  less  alien  than 
their  Gothic  masters.  Even  when  their  Christian  subjects  retained 
their  religion  (and  were  then  termed  Mozarabes)  the  Moors  frequently 
admitted  them  to  high  posts,  even  to  the  command  of  Moslem 
armies.  The  fanatical  spirit  only  began  to  appear  at  the  beginning 
of  the  twelfth  century,  and  the  intimate  alliance  and  mingling  0/ 
Christian  and  Moor  continued  even  to  the  last.  (See,  e.g.,  Lea, 
History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  i.  pp.  52  et  seq. ) 


THE   SPANISH  PEOPLE  33 

pelled  to  proceed  farther  and  found  a  congenial 
liome  among  the  hills  of  Asturias  and  Galicia, 
for  everywhere  these  reserved  and  dreamy  people 
are  attracted  to  the  seclusion  of  hilly  country ; 
their  descendants  extend  along  the  Portuguese 
coast,  and  it  may  be  said  that  the  Celts  have 
had  less  to  do  with  the  making  of  Spain  than  of 
Portugal,  to  which  indeed  Galicia  really  belongs, 
by  soil  and  climate,  as  well  as  by  race  and 
language.  Along  the  northern  Spanish  heights 
Celts  and  Iberians  seem  to  have  mingled  at 
a  very  early  period  to  form  the  vigorous  and 
obstinate  Celtiberian  stock.  The  Celts  brought, 
however,  no  very  positive  contribution  to  the 
Spanish  character ;  they  doubtless  heightened 
the  Spanish  tenacity  and  domesticity,  and  prob- 
ably diminished  Spanish  pugnacity,  for  crimes 
of  blood  are  comparatively  infrequent  in  the  Celtic 
regions  of  Spain  ;  ^  they  were  certainly  more  apt 
for  menial  labour  ;  even  to-day  the  Gallegos  in 
Spain,  like  the  Auvergnats  in  France,  are  known 
all  over  the  country  as  labourers  and  servants. 

Partly  owing  to  the  predominance  of  the 
primitive  Iberian  elements,  partly  to  the  racial 
affinity  of  most  of  the  elements  of  later  introduc- 
tion, the  population  of  Spain  reveals  to-day  a 
singular  anthropological  uniformity.^    It  is  quite 

^  Bernaldo  de  Quiros,  Criminologia,  p.  52. 

"  A  similar  uniformity  seems  to  have  prevailed  even  at  the  outset. 
In  a  fragment  of  the  old  Greek  historian,  Herodonis  of  Heracleea,  it  ia 
said  that  the  Iberians  are  everywhere  the  same  people,  though  the^ 

D 


34  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

true  that  the  inhabitants  of  many  of  the  pro- 
vinces of  Spain  are  even  now  distinguished  from 
each    other   by   various    marked    and    obvious 
peculiarities   of   appearance,   costume,  and    dis- 
position.     If,  for  instance,  we    compare    Spain 
with  France  in  this  respect,  we  might  be  inclined 
to  say  that  the  Spanish  provinces  are  more  un- 
like each  other  to-day  than  the  French  provinces 
probably  were  even  a  century  ago.     Yet  the  in- 
habitants of  many  of  the  French  provinces    are 
anthropologically  of  radically  unlike  race,  while  the 
people  of  Spain  are  as  uniform,  anthropologically, 
as  those  of  Great  Britain  now  are.     This  apparent 
diversity,  there  seems  to  me  little  doubt,  is  due 
to  that  tendency  to  clannishness,  to  local  patriot- 
ism, which  the  Spaniard  has  inherited  from  his 
Berber  ancestors. 

The  greater  part  of  Spain  is  thus  occupied  by 
a  race  which  Deniker  terms  Ibero-insular,  and  is 
sometimes  called  Homo  Mediterraneus}  The 
same  race  occupies  the  large  islands  of  the 
western  Mediterranean,  the  south  of  Italy,  and 
some  regions  in  central  France,  especially 
Limousin  and  Perigord.  The  chief  racial  char- 
acteristics   of  this    people,    as    compared    with 

bear  different  names  because  they  are  divided  into  dififerent  tribes  ; 
and  Pierre  Paris,  in  bis  valuable  study  of  primitive  art  and  industry 
in  Spain,  finds  that  among  all  the  ancient  works  of  art  which  have 
been  discovered  throughout  the  great  peninsula  there  is  a  certain 
undeniable  uniformity. 

1  Deniker,    Journal  of   the  Anthropological    Institute,    July   and 
December,  1904. 


THE  SPANISH  PEOPLE  35 

Europeans  generally,  are  shortness,  darkness, 
and  long-headedness.  In  stature  they  vary 
within  the  same  limits  as  Italians,  but  while 
in  Italy  the  short  population  is  mainly  in  the 
south,  in  Spain  it  is  more  to  the  north  and  in 
the  centre.  In  colour  Spaniards  are  on  the 
average  somewhat  darker  than  Italians,  and 
though  fair  hair  and  light  eyes  are  common  in 
many  if  not  all  parts  of  Spain,  there  appears  to 
be  no  large  region  of  the  country  in  which,  as 
illustrated  by  Deniker's  chart  of  pigmentation, 
the  people  of  brown  type  fall  below  30  per 
cent  of  the  population.  Tacitus  referred  to 
the  curly  hair  and  coloured  complexion  of  the 
Spaniards.  The  rich  pigmentation  of  the  skin 
seems  to  be  a  marked  characteristic  of  the 
Iberian  race  (even  in  the  branch  that  extends 
to  the  south-western  peninsula  of  England),  for 
Silius  Italicus  compared  the  Spaniard's  skin  to 
the  gold  of  his  mines,  and  in  its  most  delicate 
modification  it  constitutes  that  "golden  pallor" 
which  Gautier  so  greatly  admired  in  the  women 
of  Malaga.  As  regards  head-shape,  Spaniards, 
as  we  should  expect,  though  on  the  whole  long- 
headed, are  distinctly  less  so  than  the  Berbers. 
The  fairly  uniform  manner  in  which  mixture  has 
taken  place  is  decisively  shown  by  the  very 
narrow  limits  within  which  the  cephalic  index 
varies.  The  more  long-headed  people  are  in 
the  east  and  south-west,  the  more  broad-headed 


36  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

people  in  the  north-west.  The  men  and  women 
we  see  in  the  pictures  of  Murillo,  and  to  some 
extent  those  of  Zurbaran,  admirably  illustrate 
the  chief  anthropological  types  of  Spain. 


II 

The  land  of  Spain  and  the  physical  traits 
of  Spaniards  lead  us  back  to  Africa.  If  we  take 
a  more  penetrating  survey  we  shall  find  that 
there  is  much  in  the  character  of  the  Spaniard 
which  we  may  also  fairly  count  as  African. 
Indeed,  the  Spanish  character  is  fundamentally, 
it  seems  to  me,  not  only  African,  but  primitive, 
and — in  the  best  and  not  in  any  depreciative 
sense  of  the  word — savage.  It  is  usual  to  say 
that  every  nation  passes  successively  through 
the  three  stages  of  savagery,  barbarism,  and 
civilisation,  and  no  doubt  that  is  true.  But 
it  has  often  seemed  to  me  that  certain  peoples 
have  so  natural  an  affinity  for  one  or  other  of 
these  stages  that  something  of  its  character 
always  clings  to  their  national  temper.  Thus 
France  is  not  only  the  land  of  civilisation 
to-day,  but  we  clearly  detect  the  same  instinct 
of  civilisation  in  the  Gauls  described  by  Strabo 
two  thousand  years  ago;  that  premature  instinct 
of  civilisation  seems  indeed  the  main  reason  why 
they  fell  so  easy  a  prey  to  the  Romans.  Again, 
the  Russian  is  and  always  has  been  a  barbarian, 


THE   SPANISH   PEOPLE  37 

not  necessarily  for  evil,  but  also  for  good.  And 
the  Spaniard  is,  and  remains  to-day,  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word,  a  savage.  His  childlike 
simplicity  and  intensity  of  feeling,  his  hardness 
and  austerity  combined  with  disdain  for  the 
superfluous,  his  love  of  idleness  tempered  by 
the  aptitude  for  violent  action,  his  indifference 
to  persons  and  interests  outside  the  circle  of 
his  own  life — these  characteristics  and  the  like, 
which  have  always  marked  the  Spaniard,  mark 
also  the  savage.  The  love  of  idleness,  for 
instance,  as  a  background  for  the  manifestation 
of  violent  energy,  everywhere  noted  among 
savages,  has  always  been  pronounced  in  the 
Spaniard ;  he  has  little  natural  aptitude  for 
sustained  and  detailed  labour ;  even  the  highest 
efforts  of  Spanish  genius  have  often  had  little 
about  them  of  "an  infinite  capacity  for  taking 
pains,"  and  none  of  the  world's  great  literary 
masterpieces  show  so  many  careless  flaws  in 
matters  of  detail  as  Don  Quixote,  even  though 
high  authorities  maintain  that  Don  Quixote  is 
written  with  great  care.  Except  in  Catalonia 
and  Galicia,  work  is  a  necessity,  it  may  be,  but 
never  a  heart-felt  impulse ;  the  shopkeeper  and 
the  manual  labourer  are  traditionally  regarded 
with  contempt;  even  the  poor  Valencian  boat- 
man, in  a  novel  of  Blasco  Ibanez's,  could  feel 
nothing  but  contempt  for  men  who  cultivated 
the    ground :     "  they    were    labourers,    and    to 


38  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

him  that  word  sounded  like  an  insult."  The 
Spaniard  of  an  earlier  age  entrusted  labour  to 
slaves,  or  to  free  Moors  living  under  Christian 
rule,  and  called  Mudejares,  who  were  frequently 
men  of  much  more  skill  and  education  than 
their  employers.  So  that  the  Castilian,  whose 
business  was  war,  having  left  trade  and  com- 
merce and  craftsmanship  to  slaves,  came  to  regard 
them  as  slavish  occupations.  Hence  it  is  that 
in  Spain  a  beggar  can  afford  to  feel  proud — 
indeed  nowadays  the  beggar  alone  retains  that 
air  of  pride  once  attributed  to  the  Spaniards 
generally — and  social  parasitism,  which  gave  rise 
to  the  old  picaresque  literature,^  under  new  forms 
still  remains  a  national  institution. 

It  is  true  that  in  this  matter  a  too  absolute 
statement  may  easily  produce  a  false  impression. 
Spaniards  themselves  are  reasonably  annoyed 
with  the  tourists  who  seem  to  see  the  population 
of  Spain  symbolised  in  gipsies  who  dance  or  tell 
fortunes  and  beggar  boys  who  lie  in  the  sun 
eating  oranges.  Spain,  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan 
declares,  is  not  merely  the  land  of  the   gipsy 

^  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  masterpieces  of  Sjtanish  picaresque 
literature  were  probably  all  wi'itten  by  men  who  had  lived  on  the 
verge  of  tlie  nomadic  life  they  described,  and  perhaps  themselves  felt 
the  impulses  it  tended  to  engender.  The  authorship  of  the  first  and 
best,  Lazarillo  de  Tormes,  is  unknown,  but  "it  may  have  been  written," 
as  Butler  Clarke  remarks,  "in  a  camp,  a  pot-house,  a  lax  student's 
garret,  or  even  in  a  prison."  Mateo  Aleman  was  a  poor  soldier  ;  Espinel 
was  a  vagabond,  a  soldier,  a  sailor,  and  perhaps,  like  Cervantes,  a 
prisoner  in  Algiers  ;  Quevedo  had  mixed  with  all  strata  of  society. 


THE  SPANISH   PEOPLE  39 

with  his  guitar,  for  there  is  "a  youthful  and 
muscular  Spain,  covered  with  sweat,  wearing  a 
blue  blouse,  and  with  face  blackened  by  the 
smoke  of  the  forge."  This  is  undoubtedly  the 
fact,  and  yet  it  remains  true  that  the  tempera- 
ment, the  independence,  the  traditions  of  the 
Spaniard,  even  his  climate,  all  combine  to  render 
uncongenial  the  gospel  of  work  for  the  love  of 
it  which  has  commended  itself  to  the  nations 
who  are  for  ever  inventing  new  wants  in  order 
to  excuse  to  themselves  their  appetite  for  work. 
To  the  Spaniard  work  is  not  so  much  a  good 
in  itself  as  an  evil  to  which  he  is  inured,  and 
he  prefers  to  limit  his  wants  rather  than  to 
increase  his  labour.  According  to  a  Libyan 
or  Berber  tradition,  preserved  by  a  Pindaric 
fragment,  the  first  ancestor,  larbas,  of  the  race 
to  which  the  Spaniard  belongs,  sprang  directly 
from  the  sun-heated  African  soil.  It  was  a 
natural  belief.  The  plains  of  Castile,  also,  are 
hard  to  cultivate,  and  baked  by  the  sun  when 
they  are  not  frozen ;  the  natural  selection 
exercised  by  ice,  fire,  and  hunger  has  tended 
to  produce  a  tough  and  dry  race,  extremely 
sober,  temperate  in  all  their  physical  demands, 
and  too  familiar  w^ith  work  to  care  to  idealise 
it.  The  poverty  of  the  Spanish  soil  has  made 
the  Spaniard,  as  Unamuno  puts  it,  the  son  of 
Abel  rather  than  of  Cain,  the  agriculturalist,  who 
slew  him ;  he  prefers  to  breed  cattle  in  the  pastures 


40  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

and  among  the  hills ;  from  such  districts,  rather 
than  from  the  rich  and  cultivated  lowlands,  came 
conquistadores  like  Cortes  or  Pizarro,  with  many 
others  of  the  most  vigorous  children  of  Spain. 
By  environment  as  well  as  by  temperament  the 
Spaniard  is  a  nomad,  a  born  adventurer.^ 

So  that  if  we  may  say  that  there  is  in  the 
Spaniard  a  distaste  for  organised  and  constant 
labour,  there  is  also  a  great  reserve  of  energy, 
and  also  the  heroic  endurance  of  hardship  when 
the  laborious  acquisition  of  comfort  is  counted 
a  greater  hardship.  On  the  one  hand,  there 
is  the  love  of  doing  nothing,  a  contempt  for 
ordinary  useful  work,  and  a  tendency  among 
the  weaker  social  elements  to  parasitism ;  on  the 
other  hand,  there  is  at  times,  and  especially 
in  some  elect  individuals,  a  fury,  almost  an 
ecstasy,  of  extravagant  and  untiring  energy. 
It  is  this  fascination  of  energy  which  leads  in 
Calderon,  as  Norman  Maccoll  has  remarked,  to 
a  special  predilection  for  all  daemonic  types 
of  character,  the  natures  full  of  restless  energy 
and  eagerness  for  action,  urged  forward  by  an 
impulse  they  are  themselves  unable  to  account 
for,    and   regard   as  external.      Even    the   poet 

1  It  has  often  seemed  to  me  a  curious  proof  of  the  persistence  of 
hereditary  influences  that  Casanova  should  have  been  ultimately  of 
Spanish  race  ;  it  is  scarcely  fanciful,  indeed,  to  find  in  him  a  special 
affinity  with  the  Mallorcans,  among  whom  the  name  Casanova  has 
long  been  common  and  indeed  famous,  since  it  is  that  of  their  chief 
woman  saint.  Casanova  is  the  Spanish  picaro  in  excelsis.  (I  may 
refer  to  ray  study  of  Casanova  in  Affirmations.) 


THE  SPANISH  PEOPLE  41 

of  to-day,  Ruben  Dario,  though  penetrated  alike 
by  the  cosmopolitanism  of  the  new  world  and 
the  old-world  fragrance  of  Baudelaire  and 
Verlaine,  remains  a  true  child  of  Spain  in  his 
admiration  for  energy,  and  sings — 

"  Yo  soy  el  caballero  de  la  humana  energia." 

In  his  Jiestas,  also,  as  Salillas  well  remarks,  the 
Spaniard  loves  to  expend  an  immense  amount 
of  work,  which  may  not  indeed  be  useful  work, 
though  it  is  capable  of  being  transformed  into  use- 
ful work, — and  is  to-day  to  some  extent  undergo- 
ing this  transformation, — for  it  has  all  the  virility 
of  work  ;  and  the  chief  national  form  of  the  Jiesta, 
the  bull -fight,  demands  in  the  highest  degree 
courage,  strength,  agility,  intelligence,  and  grace/ 

This  attitude  of  the  Spaniard,  his  hardness, 
the  indifierence  to  pain  which  is  so  often  looked 
upon  as  a  love  of  cruelty,  again  allies  the  Spaniard 
to  the  savage.  From  first  to  last  the  emotional 
attitude  underlying  such  manifestations  is  alien 
to  the  tenderness,  fully  as  much  egoistic  as 
alrtuistic,  which  marks  civilisation,  but  it  is 
perfectly  intelligible  to  the  savage  mind.  Every 
form  of  asceticism  has  been  triumphantly  ex- 
hibited by  Spaniards,  and  asceticism,  sometimes 
tempered  by  orgy,  is  always  easy  and  often 
necessary  in  the  conditions  of  savage  life.  It  is 
only   in   this   way   that  we   can   understand  a 

*  Salillas,  Hampa,  pp.  86  et  seq.,  114  et  seg. 


42  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

characteristic  so  alien  to  the  softness  of  civilisa- 
tion. Spaniards  have  often  indignantly  repelled 
the  common  charge  of  cruelty,  and  the  accusation 
that  the  existence  of  the  Inquisition  testified  to 
a  special  delight  in  religious  persecution ;  the 
town  of  Salem  alone,  Valera  somewhere  remarks, 
was  responsible  for  more  torture  in  the  name  of 
religion  than  can  be  put  to  the  account  of  the 
Holy  Office  from  California  to  the  Straits  of 
Magellan.  Moreover,  in  an  age  when  torture 
was  a  recognised  part  of  judicial  procedure 
nearly  everywhere,^  its  use  by  the  Inquisition  in 
Spain  can  only  call  for  special  comment  if  it  can 
be  shown  that  the  Spanish  Inquisitors  went 
beyond  their  judicial  contemporaries  in  its 
application.  This  is  the  reverse  of  the  fact. 
In  Aragon,  though  it  admitted  the  Inquisition, 
torture  was  even  illegal,  and  it  was  only  by 
positive  command  of  Clement  V.  that  it  was 
applied  in  1311  to  the  Templars.  Later,  when 
torture  was  in  daily  use  in  Castile  in  the  secular 
courts,  it  was  also  used  by  the  Inquisition,  as 
it  then  was  in  Aragon,  though  still  not  there 
permitted  in  secular  jurisprudence.  The  In- 
quisition in  Spain  used  the  almost  universally 
accepted  methods  of  torture  for  extracting 
confession,  but  its  use  was  jealously  guarded, 
and  as  a  rule  only  a  few  of  the  simplest  of  the 

'  Even  in  seventeenth -century  England,  Bacon,  a  man  of  the 
highest  genius,  humanity,  and  temperamental  moderation,  accepted 
torture  as  a  matter-of-course  element  in  English  judicial  proceedings. 


THE   SPANISH  PEOPLE  43 

generally  recognised  mediaeval  methods  of  torture 
were  applied,  and  not  generally  to  any  great 
extent.  The  belief  that  the  methods  of  torture 
used  by  the  Spanish  Inquisition  were  exception- 
ally cruel  in  their  character  or  their  degree  is 
due,  remarks  Lea  in  his  very  detailed  study  of 
the  Spanish  Inquisition,  to  sensational  writers 
who  have  played  on  the  credulity  of  their 
readers.  "  The  system  was  evil  in  conception 
and  in  execution,"  he  states,  "  but  the  Spanish 
Inquisition,  at  least,  was  not  responsible  for  its 
introduction,  and,  as  a  rule,  was  less  cruel  than 
the  secular  courts  in  its  application,  and  con- 
fined itself  more  strictly  to  a  few  well-known 
methods.  The  comparison  between  the  Spanish 
and  the  Roman  Inquisition  is  also  eminently  in 
favour  of  the  former."  ^  Yet  when  we  reflect  on 
the  history  of  Spain,  and  the  temperament  of 
the  Spaniard,  it  is  difiicult  not  to  realise  a  certain 
indifference  to  pain,  almost  a  love  of  it.  The 
early  Iberians,  even  when  nailed  to  the  cross, 
still  chanted  their  national  songs,  unvanquished 
in  spirit,  to  the  astonishment  of  their  Roman 
conquerors,  and  Iberian  mothers  dashed  their 
children  to  death  rather  than  that  they  should 
live  to  be  slaves.  It  is  scarcely  more  than  a 
century  since  Spanish  churches  in  Lent  were 
habitually  bespattered  with  the  blood  of  peni- 

'  H.    C.    Lea,  History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iii.  ch.  i., 
"  Torture." 


44  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

tent  worshippers, — just  as  across  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar  to-day  the  more  fanatical  sectarians  of 
Islam  dance  through  the  market-places  during 
the  great  Moorish  festival  in  June,  hacking 
themselves  till  the  blood  flows  dovm.  Even 
yet,  it  appears,  a  similar  custom  still  lingers 
here  and  there  in  Spain.  Eegoyos  has  seen  at 
San  Vicente  de  la  Sonsierra,  near  Haro  in 
Rioja,  a  brotherhood  who  still  flagellate  them- 
selves and  each  other  till  the  blood  flows,  a 
mediaeval  survival  amid  electric  lights  and 
railway  trains.  Just  as  bulls  are  pricked  in  the 
bull-ring,  so  these  men  use  a  special  instrument 
armed  with  sharp  pieces  of  broken  glass.  Not 
every  one  feels  called  upon  to  be  a  jpicao  in  this 
game,  but  those  who  have  the  courage  to  take 
part  in  it  are  greatly  admired  by  the  girls  and 
much  sought  in  marriage.  Those  who  once 
adopt  this  practice,  which  is  an  observance  of 
Good  Friday,  feel  that  they  need  it  every  spring 
to  cool  the  blood,  and  the  authorities  have  not 
been  able  to  stop  it,  for  even  when  prohibited 
it  still  took  place  in  private.^  Two  centuries 
ago  it  was  a  common  custom  for  lovers  during 
Holy  Week  to  scourge  themselves  to  a  like 
extremity  in  the  streets,  to  win  the  pity  and 
admiration  of  their  mistresses.^ 

1  Emile  Verhaeren  and  Dario  de  Regoyos,  Espafla  Negra,  1899,  p.  72. 

2  In  1692  the  Countess  d'Aulnoy,  in  her  Relation  du  Voyage 
cCEspagne  (vol.  ii.  pp.  158-164),  gave  a  detailed  account  of  such 
flagellatory  scenes  and  the  admiration  they  aroused  in  the  feminine 


THE   SPANISH   PEOPLE  45 

*'  I  suspect  the  Spaniards,"  Barr^s  remarks, 
"of  finding  pleasure  in  the  sight  of  the  sufi'e rings 
of  Christ."  It  is  certain  that  Spanish  artists 
have  ever  sought  to  achieve  the  most  poignant 
and  agonised  images  of  the  sufi'ering  Christ,  and 
that  Spanish  worshippers  have  shown  a  peculiar 
complacency  in  surrounding  such  images  with 
elegance  and  luxury.  I  recall,  for  instance,  a 
most  sorrowful  Christ  which  I  came  across  not 
long  since  over  an  altar  in  an  aisle  of  Palencia 
Cathedral.  It  was  a  large  wooden  image  on  a 
crucifix,  carved  in  the  Spanish  realistic  muscular 
style,  and  around  the  waist  there  was  a  charming 
little  embroidered  skirt,  very  short,  and  below  it 
peeped  out  a  delicate  lace  petticoat,  a  coquettish 
disguise  made  to  suggest  and  not  to  conceal,  for 
there  was  nothing  to  conceal.  Such  is  the 
piquant  figure  that  Spanish  religion  devises  for 
the  adoration  of  Spanish  women,  and  the  bent 
dolorous  face  looks  more  dolorous  than  ever  with 
eyes  turned  to  this  ballet-girl's  costume. 

The  Spanish  interest  in  blood,  and  the  satis- 
faction in  the  shedding  of  it,  has  even  intruded 
itself  not  only  into  art,  but  also,  as  Ganivet 
well  points  out,  into  medicine.  Servetus's  part 
in  the  discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood 
is  one  of  the  most  notable  contributions  of  Spain 

heart.  When  such  a  flagellant  met  a  good-looking  woman  in  the 
street  he  would  strike  himself  in  such  a  way  that  she  was  sprinkled 
by  his  blood  ;  it  was  a  great  honour,  and  the  grateful  lady  would 
thank  him. 


46  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

to  medical  science,  while  Spain  has  surpassed 
all  other  nations  put  together  in  the  number 
and  excellence  of  its  blood-letters.  The  supreme 
Spanish  doctor  is  Doctor  Sangrado. 

Stoicism,  the  instinctive  philosophy  of  the 
savage  everywhere,  is  the  fundamental  philo- 
sophy and  almost  the  religion  of  Spain.  Seneca, 
the  typical  Spanish  Stoic,  it  has  been  said,  has 
in  Spain  the  air  of  a  Father  of  the  Church ;  the 
Spaniard,  Marcus  Aurelius,  bears  the  imprint 
of  his  native  country ;  and  Lucan  of  Cordova 
was  the  first  of  a  long  line  of  Spaniards.  They 
have  taken  so  important  a  share  in  moulding 
the  later  developments  of  Stoicism  because  that 
philosophy  answered  to  an  instinct  they  already 
felt  in  their  veins.  Even  when  most  a  Christian 
the  Spaniard  has  been  a  Stoic,  one  may  say, 
almost  more  than  an  ascetic.  Torquemada 
lived  in  palaces,  surrounded  by  princely  retinues 
of  armed  horsemen,  but  he  would  not  accept 
the  archbishopric  of  Seville,  he  wore  his  humble 
Dominican  habit,  never  wearing  linen  nor  using 
it  on  his  bed,  he  ate  no  flesh,  and  he  refused 
to  give  a  marriage  portion  to  his  indigent  sister. 
One  recalls  also  the  characteristic  anecdote  of 
Fray  Luis  de  Leon,  who,  after  five  years'  sufi'er- 
ing  in  prison  at  the  hands  of  the  Inquisition, 
returned  to  his  professorial  chair  at  Sala- 
manca— in  the  dark  little  lecture -theatre  we 
may   still   see   there — and  began,   according   to 


THE  SPANISH  PEOPLE  47 

his  usual  custom :  "As  I  said  in  my  last 
lecture." 

This  attitude  of  mind  is  associated  with  the 
Spanish  emphasis  on  character,  on  morals,  on 
practice.  Pure  intellectual  curiosity  has  never 
flourished  in  Spain.  Spaniards  have  played  no 
prominent  part  in  mathematics  or  geometry, 
in  astronomy  or  physics,  though  they  have  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  many  departments  of 
applied  science  as  well  as  in  biology,  and  to-day 
Ramon  y  Cajal,  the  neurologist,  has  a  world- 
wide reputation.  They  have  also  been  greatly 
occupied  with  metaphysics,  but  in  Spain  meta- 
physics has  been  one  with  theology,  a  subject  of 
intensely  practical  concern.^ 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
hardness  of  the  Spaniard  and  his  instinctive 
Stoicism  in  any  degree  exclude  an  aptitude  for 
real  tenderness  or  the  display  of  any  of  the 
gentler  human  emotions.  This  result  is  not 
reached  even  in  the  savage,  and  in  the  Spaniard 
there  is  a  very  high  degree  of  such  human  feel- 
ing. Cervantes,  the  most  typical  of  Spaniards, 
is  as  sweetly  humane  as  Chaucer.^  What  seems 
to  mark  the  gentler  emotions  of  the  Spaniard 

1  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  who  brings  out  this  point  in  his  Ciencia 
Espanola  (Srd  ed.,  1887,  vol.  i.  p.  94),  refers  to  "the  sad  fact  that  our 
Faculties  of  science  are  deserted." 

'^  It  is  the  humanity  of  the  Spaniard  which  makes  the  plague  of 
beggars  so  difficult  to  suppress  in  Spain  ;  a  considerable  section  of  the 
Spanish  population  of  all  classes  feels  that  it  is  inhuman  to  refuse  to 
give  alms. 


48  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

is  simply  a  less  effusive  facility  in  their  more 
serious  manifestations  and  a  tendency  to  expend 
them  on  those  immediately  around  him  rather 
than  on  the  world  at  large.     For  their  friends, 
said  Strabo,  the  Iberians  were  ready  to  sacrifice 
their  lives.     There  is  thus,  as  has  sometimes  been 
pointed  out,   a  certain  apparent  antagonism  in 
the  attitude  of  the  Spaniard  towards  the  world. 
On  the  one  hand,  he  delights  in  a  hard  and  rigid 
formalism,  an   austere  and  abstract  uniformity 
in  morals  and  religion,  to  which  his  own  spirit 
and  that  of  others  must  be  relentlessly  broken. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  to  the  individual  sinner, 
as  to  his  friend  and  neighbour  in  all  the  rela- 
tionships of  life,  the  Spaniard  is  always  indulgent,^ 
a  Quality  which  was  conspicuously  displayed,  in 
the  strictly  theological  field,  by  many  Spanish 
casuists.^     The  Spanish  Church,  however  stern 
to  the  alien  heretic  outside,  was  always  tender 
to  its  own  child  within.      Spain  produced  the 
pitiless  Torquemada,  but  also  produced  the  piti- 
ful Valencian  monk  who,  six  centuries  ago,  built 
the  first  hospital  for  the  insane.     "  We  have  an 

1  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  practice  of  allowing  counsel  to  prisoners 
in  criminal  cases,  though  comparatively  recent  in  England,  has  in 
Spain  been  customary  for  many  centuries,  defendants  too  poor  to  retain 
counsel  being  supplied  at  the  public  expense  (Lea,  History  of  the 
Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iii.  p.  43). 

2  Caramuel,  who,  on  account  of  the  tendency  of  his  teaching  to 
moral  indulgence,  has  been  termed  the  enfant  terrible  of  theology,  was 
a  Castilian.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning,  very  influential,  and  full 
of  practical  energy. 


THE   SPANISH  PEOPLE  49 

anomalous  state  of  things,"  an  acute  Spanish 
thinker  has  said,  "  in  harmony  with  our  character. 
We  punish  with  solemnity  and  rigour  to  satisfy 
our  desire  for  justice ;  and  then,  without  noise 
or  outcry,  we  pardon  the  condemned  criminal  to 
satisfy  our  desire  for  mercy."  ^  This  attitude 
of  mind  has  been  regarded  as  a  Spanish  outcome 
of  Christian  sentiment  and  Senecan  philosophy 
at  a  point  where  they  both  concord.  But  the 
tendency  is  probably  more  radical  and  instinctive 
than  such  a  suggestion  would  indicate.  We 
may  find  a  similar  mingling  of  strong  notions 
of  abstract  justice  combined  with  merciful  indul- 

^  In  the  Spanish  relif,'ious  spirit  there  is  an  extreme  tolerance  as 
well  as  an  extreme  intolerance.  The  austere  spirit  of  intolerance 
gained  the  upper  hand  during  the  late  Middle  Ages,  just  as  the 
austere  spirit  of  Puritanism,  a  little  later,  gained  the  upper  hand  in 
England,  but  it  is  not  necessarily  the  most  genuine  and  native  impulse 
of  the  race.  The  Visigoths  were  very  tolerant.  "Never  was  there  a 
nation  who  so  little  deserved  the  reproach  of  bigotry  as  the  Visigoths 
of  Spain  "  (H.  Bradley,  The  Goths,  p.  329).  It  was  a  Spanish  Goth 
who  shocked  Gregory  of  Tours  by  saying  that  it  is  a  Christian's  duty 
to  treat  with  respect  whatever  is  reverenced  by  others,  even  by  idolaters. 
At  a  later  period  Castile,  alone  among  Latin  nations,  refused  to  admit 
the  methods  of  persecution,  notwithstanding  all  the  prescriptions  of 
the  Church.  Aragon  was  more  subservient  to  the  Popes  of  Rome, 
although  its  secular  laws  were  enlightened  and  just,  and  Jaime  the 
Conqueror  burnt  obstinate  heretics  (Lea,  History  of  the  Inquisition  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  vol.  ii.  pp.  180  et  seq.).  Early  in  the  fourteenth 
century  the  movement  of  religious  intolerance  spread  among  the 
Castilian  bishops  after  they  returned  from  the  Council  of  Vienne,  and 
at  the  Council  of  Zamora  in  1313  they  went  beyond  the  French  in  the 
ferocity  of  their  movement  against  Jews  and  infidels,  although  the 
people  Wire  far  from  sharing  their  feelings.  The  Inquisitiou,  which 
was  the  chief  instrument  of  the  impulse  of  intolerance,  was  political 
even  more  than  religious,  and  was  mainly  fostered  by  the  political 
genius  of  Ferdinand  in  his  effort  to  attain  unity  and  strong  government. 

E 


50  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

gence  to  oflfenders  among  the  peasantry  of  Ire- 
land, a  land  where,  according  to  very  ancient 
tradition,  which  modern  research  tends  to  con- 
firm, a  primitive  Iberian  element  is  well  marked. 
As  regards  the  Spanish  peasant's  attitude  towards 
his  fellow-men,  I  found  an  instructive  story,  as 
recorded  by  a  Spanish  magistrate,  in  an  Ara- 
gonese  newspaper  a  few  years  ago,  at  a  time 
when  there  was  much  distress  in  Aragon.  A 
labourer  out  of  work  came  on  to  the  highroad 
determined  to  rob  the  first  person  he  met.  This 
was  a  man  with  a  waggon.  The  labourer  bade 
him  halt  and  demanded  his  money.  "  Here  are 
thirty  dollars,  all  that  I  have,"  the  detained  man 
replied.  "There  is  nothing  left  for  me  but 
robbery,  my  family  are  dying  of  hunger,"  the 
aggressor  said  apologetically,  and  proceeded  to 
put  the  money  in  his  pocket.  But  as  he  did 
so  his  mind  changed.  "  Take  this,  chico,"  he 
said,  handing  back  twenty-nine  dollars,  "  one 
is  enough  for  me."  "  Would  you  like  anything 
I  have  in  the  cart  ? "  asked  the  waggoner,  im- 
pressed by  this  generosity.  "Yes,"  said  the 
man ;  "  take  this  dollar  back  too,  I  had  better 
have  some  rice  and  some  beans."  The  waggoner 
handed  over  a  bag  of  eatables,  and  then  held 
out  five  dollars,  which,  however,  the  labourer 
refused.  "Take  them  for  luck-money,"  said  the 
waggoner,  "  I  owe  you  that."  And  only  so  was 
the  would-be  robber  persuaded  to  accept.     This 


THE  SPANISH   PEOPLE  51 

authentic  story  is  characteristic  of  the  mixture  of 
impulses  in  the  Spanish  temperament.  We  are 
not  unaccustomed  to  find  a  veneer  of  humanity 
and  courtesy  over  an  underlying  violence  and 
hardness,  but  in  this  temperament  it  is  the 
violence  and  hardness  which  lie  nearer  to  the 
surface,  and  they  fall  away  at  once  as  soon  as 
human  relationships  are  established. 

This  tendency  of  the  Spanish  peasant,  to- 
gether with  his  liking  for  abstract  laws  which 
can  be  modified  in  concrete  cases,  his  in- 
dividualism, his  love  of  independence,  and  his 
clannish  preference  for  small  social  groups,  may 
help  to  explain  why  it  is  that  Spaniards, 
peasants  and  workmen  alike,  are  attracted  to 
the  ideals  of  Anarchism.  There  is  no  country 
in  which  Collectivist  Socialism  of  the  Marxian 
school  has  made  so  little  progress  as  in  Spain, 
and  Anarchism  so  much  progress.  This  has 
been  the  case  for  at  least  forty  years. ^  In  1868 
Fanelli,  an  Italian  member  of  the  Bakunist 
Alliance  (the  Anarchist  section  of  the  Inter- 
national), went  over  to  Spain,  and  two  years 
later,  when  an  Anarchist  Congress  was  held  in 
Barcelona,  the  movement  was  already  beginning 
to  assume  a  convinced  and  determined  character. 
Since  then  Anarchism  has  steadily  progressed  in 

Spain.       It    flourishes   in   Catalonia,    where    it 

f 

^  A  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  Spanish  Anarchism,  by  Stoddard 
Dewey,  was  published  in  the  Contemporary  Eevieto  for  May  1902. 


52  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

actively  foments  and  supports  the  frequent 
strikes  in  Barcelona ;  it  finds  a  stronghold  in 
Andalusia,  where  the  contrasts  of  wealth  and 
poverty  are  very  marked ;  while  all  the  inter- 
vening Mediterranean  coasts,  especially  Valencia, 
an  important  industrial  region,  are  afi'ected  by 
its  influence.  The  more  northern  parts  of  the 
country  also  show  similar  developments,  but  in  a 
less  degree,  and  the  Atlantic  coast  is  not  so 
favourable  to  Anarchism  as  the  Mediterranean  ; 
in  Bilbao,  the  second  great  industrial  centre  of 
Spain,  the  Labour  Party  has  frequently  been 
hostile  to  Anarchism,  but  in  most  parts  of  Spain 
the  ideals  of  labour  are  largely  the  ideals  of 
Anarchism.^ 

There  is  another  Spanish  characteristic  which 
is  also  characteristic  of  the  savage  attitude 
towards  life  :  the  love  of  formalism  and  ritual 
and  ceremony.  No  doubt  in  every  stage  of 
human  culture  this  ceremonial  and  ritualistic 
element  exists  and  must  exist,  but  in  savagery, 

*  The  ideals  of  Anarchism  are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  Spanish 
peasant  and  labourer.  In  his  Dona  Luz,  Valera  has  a  passage  which, 
although  he  ascribes  it  to  "my  famous  friend  Don  Juan  Fresco"  (who 
reappears  in  the  background  of  so  mauy  of  liis  novels),  we  may  fairly 
accept  as  embodying  his  own  opinions  :  "I  confess  that  I  have  an 
ideal  which,  at  the  rate  we  are  moving,  will  not  be  realised,  if  it  is 
realised  at  all,  within  ten  or  twelve  centuries  ;  but  it  is  necessary  to 
make  our  way  towards  it,  even  though  at  the  tortoise's  pace.  My 
ideal  is  the  least  government  possible,  almost  the  negation  of  govern- 
ment, a  mild  anarchy  compatible  with  order,  an  order  born 
harmoniously  from  the  bosom  of  society  and  not  by  authority." 
This  is  a.  genuinely  Spanish  creed. 


THE  SPANISH  PEOPLE  53 

as  well  as  in  an  ancient  civilisation  like  that  of 
China,  it  is  the  external  embodiment  of  all 
philosophy  and  religion  and  social  organisation. 
Far  from  being  free,  a  savage  is  always  bound  by 
a  ceremonialism  which  is  by  no  means  a  mere 
convention,  and  may  even  be  tragic  in  its  reality. 
For  the  Spaniard,  also,  ceremonialism  is  a  real 
and  serious  thing,  extending  over  the  whole  of 
life,  not  less  formal  and  serious  in  the  bull-ring 
than  it  is  in  the  Church.  In  ancient  days  this 
conception  of  ceremony,  as  the  supreme  expres- 
sion of  the  highest  religious  privileges,  reached 
its  climax  in  the  gorgeous  spectacle  of  the  auto- 
de-fe,  or  "act  of  faith,"  the  great  festival  of  joy 
in  a  glorious  service  to  God,  at  which  the  In- 
quisition publicly  enacted  the  final  scene  in  the 
condemnation  or  reconciliation  of  the  heretic, 
before  he  was  "  relaxed,"  that  is,  abandoned  to 
the  secular  arm,  to  be  burned  at  the  qiieraadero 
outside  the  city,  the  execution  of  heretics  being 
a  matter  entirely  of  secular  law,  and  not  pre- 
scribed by  the  Church.  It  was  not  until  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  the 
auto-de-fe  fell  into  disrepute.^ 

The  Spanish  dance,  again,  in  its  ancient  and 
noble  forms,  is  a  solemn  ritual.  "  What  majesty, 
what  decorum,  what  distinction ! "  exclaims 
Valera,  in  old  age,  recalling  the  dances  of  Ruiz 
and  his    daughter  Conchita,   "and  what   grace 

^  Lea,  History  of  the  hiquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iii.  bk.  vii.  ch.  v. 


54  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

when  both  together  danced  the  holero !  There 
is  no  more  aristocratic  dance.  They  seemed  to 
be  princes  or  great  personages." 

To  the  man  of  Anglo-Saxon  stock  ceremonial 
functions  are  for  the  most  part  an  unreal  and 
uncongenial  convention,  which  he  carries  through 
to  the  best  of  his  ability  with  awkward  and 
portentous  solemnity.  To  the  Spaniard  cere- 
monialism is  so  real  that  in  his  hands  it  becomes 
gracious,  simple,  natural,  almost  homely.  "  All 
my  life  I  have  carried  myself  gracefully,"  said 
the  Marquis  de  Siete  Iglesias  on  the  scaffold, 
summing  up  the  final  apology  of  a  Spanish 
gentleman.  This  ritual  tendency  involves  indeed 
a  faith  in  exteriority  which  is  almost  fetichism  ; 
it  seems  to  have  been  a  Spaniard,  Ramon  de 
Penafort,  who  first  mentions  the  pardon  of 
venial  sin  by  aspersion  with  holy  water,  and 
in  one  of  Calderon's  plays,  the  Devocion  de  la 
Cruz,  a  man  commits  every  crime  yet  retains 
his  respect  for  the  cross,  the  symbol  of  redemp- 
tion, and  by  that  at  the  end  he  is  saved ;  he  has 
not  violated  his  tabu. 


Ill 

When  we  thus  survey  the  various  aspects  of 
the  Spanish  temperament  as  revealed  in  daily 
life,  in  history,  in  religion,  in  literature,  and  in 
politics,  we  find  that  they  coalesce  into  a  more 


THE   SPANISH   PEOPLE  55 

harmonious  picture  than  is  sometimes  repre- 
sented. They  are  all  the  manifestations  of  an 
aboriginally  primitive  race  which,  under  the 
stress  of  a  peculiarly  stimulating  and  yet 
hardening  environment,  has  retained  through 
every  stage  of  development  an  unusual  degree 
of  the  endowment  of  fresh  youth,  of  elemental 
savagery,  with  which  it  started.  The  brilliant 
author  of  the  IdearHum  Espanol,  I  may  add, 
puts  the  same  point  in  a  rather  different  manner 
when  he  remarks  that  there  is  a  profound  reason 
why  Spain  has  always  proclaimed  and  defended 
the  dogma  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  :  she 
has  herself  been  forced  to  undergo  all  the 
pangs  of  maternity  and  has  yet  reached  old 
age  with  the  virginal  spirit  still  young  within 
her. 

With  this  history  and  this  outlook  we  see 
how  inevitable  and  how  deep-rooted  are  alike 
the  fine  qualities  of  Spain  and  her  defects, 
especially  the  combination  of  splendid  initiative 
with  lack  of  sustained  ability  to  follow  it  up 
which  Menendez  y  Pelayo  regards  as  marking 
the  Spanish  genius.  We  see  how  it  is  that  the 
point  of  honour  always  played  so  important  a 
part  in  Spanish  ideas,  even  in  the  most  brilliant 
and  fruitful  period  of  Spain's  history ;  we  see 
why  the  Cid,  as  popularly  conceived,  with  his 
thoroughly  democratic  air,  his  rough-and-ready 
justice,   almost    as  of    a  glorified  Robin   Hood, 


56  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

came  to  be  the  great  hero  of  Spain.^     We  realise 
also  how  the  prime  virtue  of  the  Spaniard  has 
ever  been  the  primitive  virtue  of  valour.      "  Our 
most  striking  quality,"  Pascual  Santacruz  truly 
says  of  his  people,  "  is  valour,"  though  he  admits 
that  it  is  a  valour  which  has  in  it  much  of  the 
savagery    and   rashness   which    belong    to    the 
infancy     of    civilisation.       Whatever     can     be 
achieved  by  the    inspirations  of   sheer   valour, 
even  carried  to   the  pitch  of  heroism,  has  been 
achieved   by    Spaniards.       It   is   interesting   to 
observe  that  Brantome — the  Frenchman,  Morel- 
Fatio  believes,  who  has  best  understood  Spain — 
was  chiefly  impressed  by  the  warlike  qualities  of 
the  Spaniards.     He  saw  them  marching  through 
France  to  Flanders  in  the  days  when  Spain  was 
still  a  great  power  in  the  world.     "  You  would 
have  called  them  princes,"  he  says,  "  they  were  so 
set  up,  they  marched  so  arrogantly,  with  so  fine 
a  grace."  ^     They  were  mostly  indifi'erent  to  any 

1  For  a  study  of  the  character  of  the  Cid,  see  H.  Butler  Clarke's 
The  Cid  Oampeador  in  Heroes  of  the  Nations  Series. 

2  It  seems  to  have  been  as  a  caricature  of  the  Spaniard  as  soldier 
that  the  old  conception  of  the  Spaniard  as  braggart— which  ran,  and 
indeed  still  runs,  through  so  much  of  the  adventurous  literature  of 
France  and  England— originally  arose.  Shakespeare's  Pistol  has  been 
supposed  to  reflect  this  caricature.  The  conception  is  mistaken,  for 
the  Spaniard's  undoubted  pride,  which  is  by  no  means  vanity,  is  apt 
to  be  associated  with  discretion,  a  quality  on  which  Cervantes  much 
insisted.  "The  extravagant,  boastful  posturer,"  Mr.  Martin  Hume 
remarks  in  his  interesting  study  of  Spanish  influences  on  English 
literature,  "which  the  French  adopted  as  the  Spanish  type,  was  never 
true  to  nature,  except  perhaps  in  the  case  of  the  Spanish  soldier  of 
fortune  in  the  sixteenth  century." 


THE  SPANISH   PEOPLE  51 

other  virtue  but  valour.  "  They  send  books  to 
the  devil,"  he  adds,  "  save  a  few  among  them 
who,  when  they  give  themselves  to  study, 
are  rare  and  excellent  therein,  very  admir- 
able, profound,  and  subtle,  as  I  have  known 
several." 

Even,  however,  when  he  has  directed  his 
energies  into  other  channels,  it  is  interesting  to 
observe  how  often  the  Spaniard  has  preserved 
the  same  spirit  of  chivalrous  valour,  even  the 
very  forms  of  warfare.  This  is  so  even  in  the 
sphere  of  religion,  Ramon  Lull  is  happily  termed 
by  Menendez  y  Pelayo  "  the  knight-errant  of 
philosophy."  St.  Theresa  began  her  career  by 
writing  a  romance  of  chivalry.  The  militant 
friars  of  the  Dominican  order  were  organised  by 
a  Spaniard,  while  the  peaceable  and  scholarly 
Benedictines,  with  a  few  notable  exceptions, 
soon  ceased  to  flourish  on  Spanish  sod.  It 
was  to  the  military  genius  of  another  Spaniard, 
Loyola,  that  the  Church  owed,  as  the  Protestant 
Macaulay  pointed  out,  the  reorganisation  of  the 
forces  of  the  Counter-Reformation,  and  the 
effectual  rampart  that  Catholicism  was  enabled 
to  erect  against  the  further  advance  of  the 
movement  started  by  Luther.  Loyola  had 
been  a  soldier  and  he  organised  his  order 
in  the  spirit  of  a  soldier ;  everything  was 
based  on  implicit  obedience  and  military  dis- 
cipline ;  regulations  and  nomenclature  were  alike 


58  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

military ;  ^  the  order  constituted  a  compahia ; 
they  had  a  standard — a  bleeding  heart  crowned 
with  thorns — and  they  were  commanded  by  a 
general.  The  soldier  of  Christ,  elsewhere  a 
symbol,  in  Spain  became,  in  the  Company  of 
Jesus,  an  embodied  reality. 

Literature,  again,  an  avocation  which  seems 
far  outside  the  soldier's  profession,  has  in  Spain 
been  almost  monopolised  by  soldiers.^  Cervantes, 
the  supreme  literary  figure  of  Spain,  Camoens, 
the  supreme  literary  figure  of  Portugal,  were 
both  men  who  spent  a  large  part  of  their  lives 
in  fighting  and  adventure.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  a 
unique  figure  in  England,  corresponds  to  the 
general  type  in  Spanish  literary  annals.  The 
poets  of  Spain,  as  well  as  the  dramatists  and 
novelists,  have  frequently  been  fighting  men  who 
have  written  in  the  intervals  of  their  more 
active  life  in  courts  and  camps  and  afi*airs.  The 
Castilian  Alvaro  de  Luna  —  the  best  knight, 
horseman,  dancer,  troubadour,  and  diplomat  in 
the  Spain  of  his  day — represents  the  old  Spanish 

^  Here,  again,  we  have  evidence,  if  more  were  needed,  of  the  per- 
sistence of  primitive  tendencies  among  Spaniards,  for  the  early  Church 
was  profoundly  impressed  by  military  metaphors  ;  the  sacrament  was 
the  solemn  promise  of  allegiance  to  his  great  Captain  made  by  Christ's 
faithful  soldier  and  servant,  and  the  early  Christian's  symbol  or  pass- 
word, as  he  called  his  Creed,  was  a  name  taken  from  the  military 
vocabulary. 

2  This  is  clearly  brought  out  in  Mr.  Fitzraaurice-Kelly's  admirable 
and  delightful  History  of  Spanish  Literature,  a  work  in  which  spirited 
narrative  and  sympathetic  enthusiasm  are  balanced  by  exact  erudition. 
It  has  been  found  worthy  of  translation  into  Spanish. 


THE   SPANISH   PEOPLE  59 

ideal.  In  later  days,  the  novelist  Alarcon  was 
adventurer,  journalist,  free-lance,  soldier,  and 
man  of  the  world.  Until  recently  the  literary 
man  of  the  study,  the  writer  who  is  nothing  else 
than  a  writer,  was  almost  unknown  in  Spain. 
Even  yesterday  the  most  conspicuous  Spanish 
man  of  letters,  Valera,  was  a  diplomatist  and 
cosmopolitan  man  of  the  world,  while  Blasco 
Ibanez,  the  most  remarkable  novelist  of  the 
younger  generation  to-day,  is  a  politician  and 
revolutionist  whose  life  has  been  full  of  daring 
adventure. 

The  special  qualities  of  the  Spanish  genius, 
we  cannot  fail  to  recognise,  found  their  most 
splendid  opportunities  in  a  stage  of  the  world's 
history  which,  on  the  physical  side  at  all  events, 
is  now  for  ever  gone.  Spain  has  fallen  on  to  an 
age  which  is  content  to  demand  and  to  reward 
the  industrial  and  commercial  tasks  which  require 
a  less  brilliant  initiative.  Great,  however,  as  is 
the  natural  wealth  of  the  country,  we  can 
scarcely  desire  to  see  Spain  occupying  her  fine 
energies  in  no  higher  task  than  that  of  com- 
peting, on  a  second-rate  basis,  with  England  and 
Germany,  accepting  the  petty  bargains  which  the 
greater  industrial  powers,  first  in  the  field,  may 
have  disdained  to  touch.  Spain  is  at  last  facing 
the  task  before  her  of  setting  straight  her 
economic  position  and  her  domestic  political 
position.      But   beyond   and    beside   that   task 


60  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

there  are  problems  in  the  future  of  human 
progress  in  which  we  have  a  right  to  expect 
that  Spain  should  take  as  independent  and  as 
valorous  a  pioneering  part  as  she  once  took  in 
the  problems  of  the  physical  world.  It  is  by 
retaining  and  applying  afresh  her  own  primitive 
and  essential  ideals,  we  may  be  sure,  that  Spain 
will  impart  her  finest  spiritual  gifts  to  the 
world. 


Ill 

THE    WOMEN    OF    SPAIN 

There  are  some  countries,  one  is  inclined  to 
assert,  peculiarly  apt  to  produce  fine  men,  others 
peculiarly  apt  to  produce  fine  women.  That 
this  is  so  on  the  physical  side  all  who  are  familiar 
with  several  countries  have  had  occasion  to 
observe.  It  is  so  also  on  the  mental  side.  I 
have  elsewhere  pointed  out,  when  investigating 
the  genius  of  Great  Britain,  that  while  the  men 
of  Scotland  have  contributed  more  than  their 
share  to  the  sum  of  British  intellectual  achieve- 
ment, and  the  men  of  Ireland  less,  as  regards 
women  the  case  is  reversed,  and  the  women  of 
Ireland  have  contributed  more  than  the  women 
of  Scotland.^ 

The  Spaniards,  if  we  take  their  history  as  a 
whole,  have  been  a  peculiarly  virile  people,  yet 
at  the  present  day  one  is  tempted  to  think  that 
the  women  of  Spain  are  on  the  average  superior 
to  the  men.     In  the   past,   the   men  of  Spain 

^  Havelock  Ellis,  A  Study  of  British  Oeimi^,  p.  28. 
61 


62  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

have  been  distinguished  by  the  most  brilliant 
personal  qualities.  In  the  Spanish  men  of 
to-day,  however,  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to 
recognise  the  splendid  and  restless  activities  of 
their  forefathers.  There  is  often  a  certain  air  of 
lassitude  about  them  which  is  reflected  in  the 
comparative  absence  of  brilliant  adventurers  or 
highly  endowed  personalities  among  the  men  of 
modern  Spain  when  compared  with  the  men  of 
the  great  ages.  It  cannot  be  said  that  this  must 
be  set  down  to  "  degeneration,"  for  then  it  would 
affect  the  feminine  half  of  the  race ;  but  the  women 
are  full  of  energy  and  vigour  even  to  advanced  age; 
the  Spaniards  also  are  certainly  a  healthy  people, 
and  centenarians  are  by  no  means  rare.^ 

While  the  problem  is  somewhat  complicated, 
we  may  perhaps  appeal  to  selection  for  its 
explanation.  Everything  has  happened  that 
could  happen  to  kill  out  the  virile,  militant, 
independent  elements  of  Spanish  manhood.  War 
alone,  if  sufficiently  prolonged  and  severe,  suffices 

1  Oloriz,  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  the  distribution  and 
causes  of  longevity  in  Spain  (summarised  in  British  Medical  Journal, 
December  24,  1898,  p.  1898),  states  that  for  the  Peninsula  and 
adjacent  islands  generally  the  proportion  of  centenarians  is  twenty-five 
per  million,  and  that  on  the  whole  it  rose  during  the  past  century. 
The  Andalusian  provinces  (especially  Malaga)  stand  at  the  head  of 
the  list,  the  second  place  being  occupied  by  the  Galician  provinces, 
while  the  more  or  less  Basque  provinces  of  the  noith-east  stand 
lowest ;  the  central  regions  also  stand  low  ;  on  the  whole,  extreme 
and  ordinary  longevity  coincide,  but  not  in  Andalusia,  where  the 
conditions  seem  to  use  up  rapidly  the  energy  of  average  members  of 
the  race,  but  to  be  very  favourable  to  those  who  reach  old  age. 
Longevity  is  more  common  among  Spanish  women  than  men. 


THE   WOMEN   OF   SPAIN         63 

to  deplete  a  people  of  its  most  vigorous  stocks. 
"  The  warlike  nation  of  to-day,"  says  President 
Jordan,  "  is  the  decadent  nation  of  to-morrow."  ^ 
The  martial  ardour  and  success  of  the  Spaniards 
lasted  for  more  than  a  thousand  years ;  it  was 
only  at  very  great  cost  that  the  Romans  subdued 
the  Iberians,  and  down  to  the  sixteenth  century 
the  Spaniards  were  great  soldiers ;  but  the 
struggle  in  the  Netherlands  against  the  Dutch 
finally  wasted  their  energies,  and  when  at 
Rocroy,  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  Spanish  infantry  that  had  been 
counted  the  finest  in  Europe  went  down  before 
the  French,  the  military  splendour  of  Spain 
finally  vanished.^ 

^  This  writer  has  stated  in  a  powerful  manner  the  argunnents  which 
tend  to  show  that  war  permanently  deprives  a  nation  of  warlike  men, 
that  it  is  a  people  bred  through  long  ages  of  peace  which  attains 
heroism  and  success  in  war,  and  that  the  warlike  spirit  tends  to  kill 
out  itself  ("The  Blood  of  the  Nation,"  Popular  Science  Monthly, 
May  and  June  1901). 

"^  Among  the  Spanish  women  also,  in  ancient  days,  notwithstanding 
their  customs  of  almost  iloorish  seclusion,  courage  and  warlike 
qualities  were  common.  A  typical  fifteenth  century  figure  is  that  of 
Dona  Maria  de  Jlonroy,  a  widow  of  noble  family  with  two  sons.  One 
of  these  youths  was  slain  in  a  quarrel  over  dice  by  two  close  friends, 
who  then  slew  the  other  brother  to  avoid  his  vengeance,  thereupon 
fleeing  to  Portugal.  But  tlie  mother,  in  male  attire  and  accompanied 
by  a  band  of  twenty  cavaliers,  promptly  took  horse  and  tracked  them 
to  a  house  where  they  lay  concealed,  entered  with  two  of  her  men,  and 
was  soon  on  horseback  again  with  both  heads  suspended  from  her  left 
hand,  never  stopping  until  she  had  reached  Salamanca  and  placed  the 
heads  on  her  sons'  tomb.  She  was  a  type,  Lea  states,  of  the 
mugeres  varonilea  of  the  time,  "  who  would  take  the  field  or  maintain 
their  place  in  factious  intrigue  with  as  much  ferocity  as  the  men  " 
(H.  C.  Lea,  History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  i.  p.  57). 


64  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

It  is  not  war  alone,  however,  that  has  tended 
to  crush  Spam's  manhood  :  the  Inquisition,  an 
institution  apparently  alien  to  the  spirit  of  the 
race  and  only  established — by  Spaniards  indeed 
— with  great  difficulty,  killed,  banished,  and 
drove  out  all  the  varied,  vigorous,  and  independ- 
ent stocks  on  the  intellectual  side,  just  as  war 
had  on  the  militant  side.  And  a  third  great 
cause  of  the  depletion  of  manhood  was  the  vast 
colonial  empire  "  on  which  the  sun  never  set." 
All  the  ardent  adventurers,  in  search  of  gold  or 
fame  or  eager  to  convert  the  heathen,  rushed  to 
the  new  world  and  made  the  old  world  poorer. 
When  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  conquered  Granada, 
almost  at  the  same  moment  that  they  succeeded 
in  firmly  establishing  the  Inquisition  and  that 
Columbus  returned  from  his  great  expedition, 
Spain  seemed  about  to  reach  the  summit  of  her 
worldly  glory,  but  at  the  same  time  she  was 
preparing  to  plunge  into  an  abyss. 

So  it  is  that,  as  some  one  has  said,  the  history 
of  Spain  may  be  summed  up  in  a  single  ancient 
sentence :  "  This  is  Castile,  she  makes  men  and 
wastes  them."  But  the  women  of  Spain  have 
not  thus  been  wasted ;  war,  persecution,  and 
emigration  have  never  borne  heavily  on  them ; 
there  has  been  no  powerful  weeding  out  of  the 
best  here.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  we  might 
explain  the  fine  qualities  of  Spanish  women  to-day 
by  supposing  that,  while  the  stocks  that  specially 


THE  WOMEN  OF   SPAIN         65 

tend  to  produce  fine  men  have  been  largely  killed 
out,  the  stocks  that  tend  to  produce  fine  women 
have  not  been  subjected  to  this  process. 

Whether  or  no  this  is  so, — for  both  facts 
and  theory  are  still  doubtful, — the  distinguished 
qualities  of  Spanish  women  can  scarcely  be 
questioned.  Their  beauty  and  grace  are  a  theme 
for  rhapsody  to  every  tourist.  And  if  we  dis- 
regard the  tourist,  we  find  that  a  scientific 
anthropologist  like  the  Italian  Mantegazza — 
who  has  lived  in  many  lands,  and  regards  the 
study  of  beauty  as  one  of  the  anthropologist's 
most  serious  duties — reaches  the  conclusion  that 
the  most  beautiful  women,  whether  in  the  old 
world  or  the  new,  are  those  of  Spanish  and  of 
British  race,  and  that  the  finest  Spanish  women 
and  the  finest  English  women  are  the  most 
perfectly  beautiful  types  the  world  can  show;^ 
it  is  certainly  a  conclusion  that  an  English  lover 
of  Spain  need  not  feel  called  upon  to  question. 

If  any  one  can  be  found  to  question  the 
beauty  of  Spanish  women,  he  should  go  to  the 
Feria  at  Seville.  This  is  especially  a  woman's 
festival,  and  the  beautiful  women  of  Andalusia, 
and,  indeed,  of  Spain  generally,  crowd  to  Seville 
for  the  three  days  during  which  it  is  held.     If 

^  "When  an  Andalusian  woman  attains  the  stately  height  of  an 
Englishwoman,  and  when  an  Englishwoman  has  small  hands  and  feet, 
they  are  both  divine,  the  two  highest  forms  of  life,  the  most  splendid 
creatures  in  the  human  world  "  (Mantegazza,  Fisiologia  della  Donna, 
cap.  iv.), 

F 


66  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

the  foreign  visitor  to  the  Prado  de  San  Sebastian 
at  this  time  has  ever  before  in  his  life  anywhere 
seen  so  many  beautiful  women  beautifully  dressed 
he  may  count  himself  happy.  The  national 
costumes  of  Spain  may  be  dying  out,  but  on 
such  an  occasion  as  this  the  shawl  and  the 
mantilla  are  universal,  and  in  Seville,  at  all 
events,  the  Andalusian  woman  betrays  little 
desire  to  seek  for  new  fashions  from  Paris.  It 
is  fortunate,  for  a  Spanish  woman  in  a  Parisian 
costume  is  nearly  always  badly  dressed,  while  in 
her  native  costume  her  distinction  is  perfect.  In 
the  Sevillian  temperament  the  aristocratic  and 
the  democratic  are  united ;  this  is  reflected  in 
the  costume.  Its  simplicity,  the  universal  love 
it  reveals  for  black — a  colour  so  admirably  fitted 
to  emphasise  beauty  and  grace — introduce  a  note 
of  distinction  which  is  equally  within  reach  oi 
poor  and  rich,  so  that  it  is  often  difiicult  for  an 
uninitiated  stranger  at  a  first  glance  to  guess  the 
social  class  of  the  woman  he  meets. ^ 

The  typical  young  Sevillian  woman  of  the 
people  builds  her  hair  up  into  a  little  fortress 
with  combs  at  the  top  of  her  head — in  a  way 
that  is  substantially  the  same  as  that  practised 
by  the  women  in  this  part  of  Spain  more  than 
two  thousand  years  ago  * — and  she  adorns  it  with 

1  It  has  doubtless  always  been  so  ;  in  1623  Howell  wrote  from  Spain 
that  "one  can  hardly  distinguish  a  countess  from  a  cobbler's  wife." 

^  Even  in  the  sixth  century  before  Christ  Artemidorus  described 
the  extravagant  head-dresses  of  Iberian  women.     The  manola's  long 


THE   WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         67 

a  carnation  or  a  rose.  She  wears  a  shawl,  as, 
indeed,  all  Spanish  women  do,  but  the  Sevillian 
woman  is  distinguished  by  the  manner  of  wearing 
it ;  she  folds  it  in  oblong,  not  triangular,  shape, 
so  that  it  lies  straight  across  the  back  and  hangs 
over  each  arm  ;  this  method  requires  a  little  more 
skill  than  the  triangular  method,  but,  so  worn, 
the  shawl  becomes  a  more  expressive  garment 
and  adds  a  distinction  to  the  wearer.  The  Feria 
is  a  marvellous  display  of  beautiful  and  various 
shawls — which  are  often,  even  when  belonging 
to  the  poor,  very  costly — and  they  are  nearly 
always  worn  in  this  way.  There  are,  indeed, 
exceptions  to  this  rule ;  some  of  the  small  and 
more  elaborate  Manila  shawls  cannot  thus  be 
worn,  and  the  old  women  also  wear  the  shawl 
cross-wise  with  a  point  hanging  down,  and  at 
the  same  time  do  their  hair  at  the  back  and  not 
at  the  top  of  the  head.  The  peculiar  erection  of 
the  hair  at  the  top  of  the  head,  the  flowers  that 
adorn  it,  and  the  method  of  wearing  the  shawl 
are  a  kind  of  coquettish  war-paint,  the  appanage 
of  youth  and  vigour;  and  there  is  a  certain 
pathos  in  the  resignation  of  the  return  to  the 
cross-wise  method  with  its  inelegant  tail  lying 
motionlessly  down  the  back. 

comb  covered  by  the  black  mantilla  is  a  survival  of  those  elevated 
coiffures  which  we  may  still  see  in  prehistoric  statues,  such  as  those 
of  the  Cerro  da  los  Santos.  They  are  figured,  for  instance,  by  Engel 
in  the  account  of  his  archaeological  mission  to  Spain  {Nouvelles 
Archives  des  Missions  Scientifiques,  1892,  vol,  iii.  p.  180). 


68  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

This  method,  however,  becomes  more  frequent 
as  we  leave  Seville  in  any  direction,  even  at 
Cordova,  and  still  more  so  at  Granada.  When 
we  reach  Aragon  a  totally  different  type  of 
costume  prevails,  a  severely  prim  type — well 
suited  to  the  graver,  more  austere  type  of 
feminine  beauty  prevailing  here — with  little  or 
no  bright  colour,  one  white  flower  alone  perhaps 
being  worn  in  the  hair,  which  is  done  at  the 
back  and  brought  close  down  over  the  temples, 
while  an  abundance  of  white  petticoats  are  worn, 
simulating  a  crinoline.  The  plain  dark  shawl 
is  worn  cross-wise  down  the  back,  and  instead 
of  being  loudly  striped  the  stockings  are  more 
usually  black ;  altogether  in  this  extreme  sobriety 
of  visage  and  costume  the  Aragonese  women  are 
absolutely  unlike  the  brilliant  stately  Andalusians, 
and,  to  English  eyes  at  all  events,  present  a  quaint 
old-fashioned  air  singularly  recalling  the  women 
of  the  early  Victorian  era. 

Charming  as  is  the  costume  of  the  most 
typical  Spanish  woman — the  Sevillana — that 
charm  is  merely  the  expression  of  the  physical 
personality  it  clothes.  It  is  certainly  true  that 
the  element  of  solemn  ritual  which  runs  through 
everything  Spanish  has  its  part  in  the  women's 
dress  also,  and  that  the  contrast,  especially 
among  the  middle  class,  between  the  Spanish 
woman  in  the  almost  oriental  seclusion  of  her 
own  house  and  the  same  woman  when  abroad  in 


THE  WOMEN  OF   SPAIN         69 

the  streets  is  often  considerable.  But  there  is  a 
proud,  almost  self-conscious,  absence  of  artifice 
in  a  Spanish  woman's  dress ;  in  Seville,  at  all 
events,  it  is  strictly  expressive  of  the  woman  it 
covers.  The  mantilla  is  in  this  respect  truly  char- 
acteristic ;  it  is  the  type  of  the  garment — more 
common  in  the  East  than  in  the  "West — which 
is  itself  meaningless  and  expressionless,  gaining 
all  its  meaning  and  expression  through  its  en- 
hancement of  the  special  qualities  of  the  wearer. 
The  Spanish  woman  is  commonly  spoken  of  as 
a  small  brunette  of  sallow  or  "  olive  "  complexion. 
Such  are  indeed  frequently  found  in  Spain,  as 
also  in  Italy  and  France,  and  this  description  is 
far  from  defining  precisely  the  woman  of  Spain. 
From  an  English  point  of  view  Spanish  women 
are,  on  the  average,  below  medium  height,  with 
small  but  well-shaped  and  vigorous  hands  and 
feet.  They  are  sometimes  slender  when  young, 
but  bust  and  hips  are  generally  well  developed. 
As  they  approach  middle  age  they  frequently 
become  very  stout ;  this  tendency  seems  to  me 
specially  marked  in  Catalonia,  but  is  fairly 
evident  everywhere ;  a  type  is  thus  produced  to 
which  Spaniards  themselves  apply  the  term 
jamona ;  but  this  tendency  by  no  means  always 
involves  any  considerable  loss  of  agility.  In  old 
age,  when  this  excessive  stoutness  is  no  longer  so 
pronounced,  the  women  are  often  singularly 
vigorous  and  active. 


70  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Beyond  these  main  physical  traits  of  the 
Spanish  woman,  she  possesses  certain  interesting 
peculiarities.  One  of  these  lies  in  the  shape  of 
the  chest.  Unlike  the  French  and  the  Northern 
woman,  the  Spanish  woman's  chest  is  found  to  be 
shorter  and  broadest  at  the  base — at  the  level, 
that  is,  of  the  lower  end  of  the  breast-bone — so 
that  she  requires,  according  to  Carmandel,  a 
differently-shaped  corset,  while  at  the  same  time 
there  is  greater  amplitude  and  accentuation  of 
the  hips  in  relation  to  the  figure  generally. 
These  characteristics  of  the  Spanish  woman  are 
well  illustrated,  it  has  been  said,  by  a  comparison 
between  the  statue  which  Falguiere  modelled 
after  CMo  de  Merode  and  the  distinctively 
national  Spanish  type  represented  in  Goya's 
Maja  Desnuda  now  in  the  Prado.^ 

The  typical  Spanish  woman  (as  Duchenne 
first  pointed  out  in  1866)  presents  another 
puzzling  but  well- authenticated  peculiarity  in 
the  heightened  curves  of  her  spine.  The  Spanish 
woman's  spine  looks  as  if  its  curvature  had  been 
increased  by  pressure  applied  to  the  two  ends. 
This  indeed  has  by  some  been  supposed  to 
be   the   actual   cause    of    the    peculiarity,   and 

^  It  may  be  furtlier  noted  that  tlie  Spanisli  woman's  breasts  (as  is 
shown  and  illustrated  by  Ploss  and  Bartels,  Das  Weib,  vol.  i. 
ch.  viii. )  tend  to  have  the  peculiarity  that  the  areola  around  the 
nipple  is  raised  and  clearly  separated  from  the  surrounding  skin  ;  the 
same  peculiarity  is  noted  in  Sicilian  women,  who  are  of  allied  race  ;  it 
is  a  characteristic  which  recalls  the  breasts  of  black  African  women. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         71 

Spalikowski — who  has  found  the  ensellure  or 
saddle-back,  as  it  is  termed,  well  marked  among 
some  of  the  most  beautiful  and  vigorous  of  the 
labouring  women  and  fisher-folk  near  Boulogne 
and  Dieppe — states  that  it  only  occurs  in  women 
who  are  accustomed  to  bear  heavy  burdens ;  he 
also  remarks  that  it  is  frequently  associated  with 
small  feet  and  hands,  well-modelled  neck,  grace- 
ful bust,  and  lithe  figures,  usually  in  brown-eyed 
women.  This  association  of  characters  suggests 
that  the  peculiarity  is  not  an  individual  acquire- 
ment, but  a  racial  trait,  and  there  is  no  difiiculty 
in  believing  that  the  Iberian  element,  which  is 
still  strong  in  the  south-west  of  France  and 
recognisable  in  the  south-west  of  England,  may 
also  have  passed  up  the  French  coast.  Lagneau 
and  others  are  distinctly  of  opinion  that  the 
saddle-back  is  a  racial  Iberian  trait. ^  This  con- 
clusion seems  inevitable,  and  in  any  case  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  special  grace  and 
distinction  of  profile  of  the  Spanish  woman's 
figure  is  associated  with  the  saddle-back ;  it  is 
this  that  gives  the  characteristic  mark  to  her 
bearing  and  carriage,  while  it  emphasises  much 
that  is  most  significant  in  Spanish  dancing.     In 

^  Sr.  Bernaldo  de  Quiros  remarks  (in  a  private  letter)  that  the 
saddle-back  is  not  marked  in  tlie  women  of  the  northern  coast,  who 
are  accustomed  to  bear  burdens  on  the  liead,  but  in  those  of  the  centre 
and  south,  where  weights  are  more  usually  supported  on  the  hips.  He 
also  refers  to  the  curious  fact  that  the  horse  of  Andalusian  race 
possesses  a  very  pronounced  saddle-back. 


i 


72  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

extreme  cases  it  may  sometimes  involve  a  slight 
simulation,  in  a  more  beautiful  manner,  of  the 
development  typical  of  the  Hottentot  Venus,  and 
then  the  Spanish  girl  of  the  people  may,  if  she 
so  pleases,  adopt,  like  the  Ogowe  woman  of 
tropical  Africa,  that  swaying  movement  from 
side  to  side  which  was  familiar  to  the  author  of 
the  old  sixteenth  century  novel.  La  Lozana 
Andaluza,  as  culeando.  For  it  is  a  curious  and 
significant  fact  that  the  Iberian  saddle-back  has 
not  only  been  traced  in  a  slight  degree  by 
Hartmann  among  the  Kabyle  women  of  North 
Africa,  but  has  been  found  by  accurate  measure- 
ments to  mark  many  of  the  Negro  tribes.^ 

It  is  probably  in  some  degree  to  her  ana- 
tomical peculiarities  that  we  must  attribute 
something  of  the  special  character  of  the  Spanish 
woman's  way  of  walking.  This  gait,  which  is 
also  seen  wherever  women  are  accustomed  to 
bear  burdens  on  the  head — as  in  the  women  in 
Rome  from  the  Alban  hills  and  in  some  parts  of 
Ireland^ — is   the  erect  dignified  carriage,   with 

^  G.  Fritscli  has  carefully  studied  the  natural  lordosis  of  the 
African's  body  [Zeitschrift  fur  Ethnologic,  1891,  part  iv.  p.  470). 

2  I  well  remember  the  surprise  of  a  graceful  Irishwoman,  who  had 
lived  long  in  Australia,  when  I  told  her  that  she  must  once  have  been 
used  to  carrying  heavy  things  on  her  head.  Among  the  very  ingenious 
and  elaborate  gymnastic  systems  which  have  been  invented  for  the 
benefit  or  the  torment  of  civilised  women  this  method  has  no  place, 
probably  because  it  is  too  simple  to  afford  a  living  to  its  professors. 
But  it  is  an  excellent  method  not  only  of  ensuring  a  beautiful 
distinction  of  carriage,  but  of  imparting  tonicity  and  control  to  a  large 
number  of  muscles  throughout  the  body. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         73 

restrained  movement,  of  a  priestess  who  is 
bearing  the  sacred  vessels.  At  the  same  time, 
the  walk  of  Spanish  women,  while  not  lacking 
in  proud  human  dignity,  has  in  it  something  of 
the  gracious  quality  of  a  feline  animal,  whose 
whole  body  is  alive  and  in  restrained  movement, 
yet  without  any  restless  or  meaningless  excess 
of  movement.  A  beautiful  walk  seems  to  mark 
all  the  races  which  have  produced  a  fine  type  of 
womanly  beauty,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  so  rare 
in  England  and  America  arouses  some  misgivings 
as  to  the  claim  of  our  women  to  stand  in  quite 
the  first  rank  of  beauty ;  the  Spanish  woman, 
like  the  Virgilian  goddess,  is  known  by  her  walk. 

Perhaps  an  even  rarer  accomplishment  than 
that  of  walking  well  is  that  of  sitting  well.  A 
typical  Sevillian  woman  of  the  people — sitting 
squarely  in  an  attitude  of  calm  and  easy,  yet  not 
languid  repose,  her  knees  slightly  separated,  her 
hands  resting  on  her  thighs — seems  to  assume 
instinctively,  as  a  friend  once  remarked  to  me, 
the  hieratic  pose  of  a  Byzantine  Madonna. 

The  special  features  of  the  Spanish  woman's 
face  that  have  always  aroused  admiration  are 
her  eyes  and  her  complexion ;  in  these  respects 
she  is  universally  considered  to  excel  the  women 
of  other  countries.  The  face  varies  greatly  in 
outline ;  not  seldom  it  is  straight  in  the  classic 
manner,  with  beautiful  brows ;  the  lower  part  of 
the  face,  though  often  as  beautiful  as  could  be 


74  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

desired,  is  the  part  most  liable  to  be  unsatis- 
factory ;  it  may  become  somewhat  coarse  and 
thick.  The  nose  also  is  sometimes  defective ; 
there  seems,  indeed,  to  be  a  peculiar  tendency 
to  arrested  or  irregular  development  in  the 
Spanish  nose ;  and  Spanish  women  at  times 
have  what  we  commonly  call  the  Wellington 
nose.  The  hair,  again,  though  sometimes  con- 
sidered a  special  beauty  of  the  Spanish  woman, 
does  not,  to  me  at  least,  stand  in  the  first  rank 
of  her  charms ;  it  is  not  comparable,  for  in- 
stance, to  the  beautiful  and  abundant  hair 
which  one  sees  so  often  amono^  Polish  women 
in  the  streets  of  Warsaw.  The  Spanish  woman's 
hair,  in  the  south  (it  is  not  so  in  the  north- 
west), is  frequently  lacking  in  any  tawny  or 
auburn  tints,  and  it  is  too  tightly  dressed  (often 
with  the  aid  of  oil  of  sweet  almonds)  to  be  quite 
charming ;  but,  with  its  prevailing  tones  of  dull 
brown  to  deep  black  —  with  blue  reflections 
rather  than  red — it  supplies,  at  all  events,  a 
perfect  background  to  the  white  or  preferably 
red  flower,  the  jasmine  or  carnation,  which  is 
often  the  chief  note  of  colour  in  the  Spanish 
woman's  attire. 

It  is  usual  to  say  that  the  Spanish  woman's 
eyes  are  large  and  black,  sometimes,  it  is  added, 
and  bold.  This  is  the  first  and  most  obvious 
impression  of  the  northerner,  who  realises  that  he 
has  come  among  a  people  of  a  higher  degree  of 


THE   WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         75 

pigmentation  than  he  is  accustomed  to,  who  use 
their  eyes  with  a  calm  steadiness  not  unusual  in 
peoples  with  a  dash  of  the  East  in  their  blood 
and  their  habits — it  is  still  more  pronounced  in 
Hungary — but  disconcerting  to  the  foreigner 
from  England  or  France  or  Germany.  The 
impression,  however,  which  the  Spaniard  himself 
receives  of  the  beautiful  eyes  of  his  own  women, 
as  well  as  the  impression  of  the  foreigner  who 
has  really  lived  in  Spain,  is  not  the  same  as 
that  of  the  casual  tourist.  In  Spain,  as  Mateo 
Aleman  wrote  four  centuries  ago,  the  mere 
glance  of  a  woman's  eye  is  regarded  as  a  high 
favour,  and  the  Spaniard  is  more  affected  by 
the  quality  of  the  gaze  than  by  the  precise 
colour  of  the  eyes.  Undoubtedly  the  brown 
or  pigmented  eye  seems  more  expressive  than 
the  blue  or  unpigmented  eye — a  fact  of  which 
physiologists  have  sought  to  give  a  precise 
explanation — but  it  is  by  no  means  the  "  black  " 
eye  which  is  in  chief  honour.  The  black  eye 
is  plebeian,  and  it  is  usually  associated  with 
a  plebeian  style  of  beauty.  The  Spaniard, 
whatever  region  of  the  country  he  belongs  to, 
has  nearly  always  admired  the  "mixed"  eye, 
that  of  medium  pigmentation,  which — like  the 
men  of  Old  France,  who  felt  the  same  admiration 
for  it — he  terms  green.  Calderon,  it  is  true, 
associated  black  eyes  with  beauty,  but  in  the 
Celestina  green  eyes  with  long  lashes  are  one  of 


76  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

the  chief  marks  of  supreme  beauty.  "  I  am  per- 
suaded," said  Don  Quixote  also,  "  that  Dulcinea's 
eyes  must  be  green  emeralds,  full  and  soft,  with 
two  rainbows  for  eyebrows."  Even  to  his 
charming  little  gipsy,  Preciosa,  Cervantes  gives 
locks  of  gold  and  eyes  which  are,  as  usual,  like 
emeralds.  The  same  admiration  exists  to-day, 
and  is  easily  traceable  in  the  chief  and  most 
characteristic  Spanish  novelists.  In  Morsamor, 
Valera,  describing  the  beautiful  and  seductive 
Olimpia,  refers  to  "  the  magnetic  force  of  her 
green  or  glaucous  eyes,  like  those  of  Minerva, 
Medea,  and  Circe,  and  which  might  be  compared 
to  two  emeralds  in  burning  flame."  Blasco 
Ibanez  also,  in  Canas  y  Barro,  says  of  Neleta, 
the  beautiful  Valencian  girl  of  the  Albufera, 
that  she  had  "  clear  green  eyes  that  shone  like 
two  drops  of  Valencian  absinthe." 

The  complexion  can  scarcely  be  passed  over, 
for  it  is  a  character  of  the  first  importance  in  the 
Spanish  beauty.  The  Spanish  complexion  has 
sometimes  been  called  "  sallow,"  or,  as  Gautier 
more  happily  and  more  correctly  described  it, 
"a  golden  pallor."  But  whether  the  golden 
element  is  present  or  not,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  Spanish  skin  is  the  most  perfect 
in  Europe,  and  there  is  no  need  to  hide  it,  as 
was  once  the  Spanish  custom,  by  rouge,  and  now 
by  the  unpleasant  use  of  powder.  The  finest 
English  complexion  is  incomparable,  but  it  is  a 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         77 

very  delicate  and  transitory  possession ;  take  it 
into  a  hot,  dry  climate,  like  that  of  Australia, 
and  it  is  swiftly  destroyed.  But  Spain  is  a  very 
hot  and  very  dry  country,  and  yet,  even  among 
the  peasantry,  who  are  constantly  exposed  to  the 
weather  without  any  sort  of  protection,  one  can 
nowhere  see  better  complexions,  sometimes  even 
very  fair;  this  skin  seems  to  be  not  only  of 
finer,  but  also  of  firmer  and  more  vital  texture  ; 
it  will  not  easily  discolour ;  it  seldom  congests ; 
it  never  freckles.  There  is  a  quality  about  the 
skin  of  a  beautiful  Spanish  woman  which  always 
instinctively  suggests,  alike  to  the  foreigner  and 
to  the  Spaniard  himself,  the  quality  of  the  finest 
and  most  exquisitely  wrought  metals.  This  had 
not  escaped  Cervantes.  "  Senor  Don  Quixote," 
asked  the  duenna,  "have  you  observed  the 
comeliness  of  my  lady  the  Duchess,  that  smooth 
complexion  of  hers  like  a  burnished  polished 
sword  ? "  Blasco  Ibanez  refers  to  the  "  metallic 
reflections  "  of  Neleta's  skin,  and  Valera  says  of 
Rosita,  in  Las  Ulusiones  del  Doctor  Faustino, 
that  at  twenty-eight  she  was  so  full  of  health 
and  purity  that  "  she  seemed  a  statue  of 
burnished  bronze ;  the  weather  had  tarnished 
neither  her  hands  nor  her  face,  which  had 
something  of  the  patina  which  the  Anda- 
lusian  sun  gives  to  columns  and  other  objects 
of  art."  Nothing  could  more  accurately  de- 
scribe   the     impression     constantly     given     by 


78  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

ttie    Spanish,    and    especially    the    Andalusian, 
woman. 

Discussion  has  sometimes  taken  place  as  to 
the  proportion  of  fair-complexioned  women  in 
Spain ;  it  is  certainly  large,  not  only  in  the 
seaport  towns  (there  is  always  a  tendency  to 
blondness  by  the  sea),  but  in  Madrid  and  other 
inland  centres.  The  pro^Dortion  of  notably  fair- 
complexioned  women  in  Spain  is  decidedly  larger 
than  in  the  south  of  France,  in  Toulouse,  for 
instance,  or  at  Aries.  The  northerner,  arriving 
in  Spain  for  the  first  time  and  noting  the 
presence  of  a  very  dark  type,  much  darker  than 
can  be  found  in  France,  is  apt  to  overlook  the 
more  familiar  fair  type  and  so  to  receive  a  false 
impression.  Over  sixty  years  ago  Gautier  noted 
that  blondes  were  common  in  Madrid ;  half  a 
century  later  they  seemed  to  Mr.  Finck  to  be 
rare,  and  he  contended  that  they  are  being  dis- 
placed by  brunettes.  Dona  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan, 
the  distinguished  Spanish  novelist,  writing  at 
about  the  same  time  as  Mr.  Finck,  expressed  an 
entirely  contrary  opinion,  remarking  that  what 
she  considers  the  national  type  of  beauty — the 
woman  of  middle  height,  slight  yet  rounded 
form,  undulating  movements,  swift  and  graceful, 
black  eyes,  black  hair,  and  olive  complexion — is 
slowly  giving  place  to  a  fleshy  blonde  of  the 
Kubens  type.  If  one  may  venture  to  express 
an  opinion  in  a  matter  concerning  which  such 


THE  WOMEN   OF   SPAIN         79 

learned  authorities  differ,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
say — in  the  absence  of  exact  statistics — that 
there  has  really  been  no  change.  My  own 
impressions  to-day  in  Madrid  correspond  with 
tolerable  exactness  to  those  of  Gautier  in  the 
early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Really 
blue  eyes  and  very  light  hair  are  indeed,  in  most 
regions,  rare ;  but  light  mixed  eyes  and  medium 
brown  hair  are  by  no  means  rare,  while  quite 
fair  complexions  are  common.  The  prevalence 
of  the  very  fair  type,  in  the  past  as  well  as  in 
the  present,  is  clearly  reflected  in  Spanish 
literature.  It  is  sufiicient  to  refer  to  Cervantes ; 
throughout  Don  Quixote  and  The  Exemplary 
Novels  a  beautiful  woman  has  golden  hair  just 
as  she  has  emerald  eyes ;  Luscinda,  by  way  of 
variety,  has  auburn  (ruhios)  tresses.  The  fair 
woman  plays,  indeed,  in  Spanish  literature,  a 
much  larger  part  than  she  is  entitled  to,  for 
fairness  in  Spain  was  not  only  part  of  the  ideal 
of  beauty,  but  also  the  mark  of  aristocratic 
birth,  ^ 

Eyes  and  complexion  are  recognised  traits  of 

^  The  term  "blue  blood,"  or  sangre  azul,  as  indicating  nobility,  is 
believed  to  be  of  Spanish  origin.  In  Spain,  as  in  most  other  countries, 
the  nobility  are  somewhat  fairer  than  the  ordinary  population,  and,  as 
Sir  Lauder  Brunton  has  pointed  out  {British  Medical  Journal,  March 
21,  1896),  while  in  dark  people  the  blood-vessels  do  not  easily  show 
through  the  skin,  in  the  fair  the  veins  are  distinctly  seen  and  appear 
of  a  blue  colour,  so  that  to  have  "blue  blood"  means  to  be  fair.  I 
have  discussed  the  European  ideal  of  beauty  in  its  history  and 
national  modifications  in  my  Studies  in  the  Psychology  of  Sex,  vol.  iv., 
"Sexual  Selection  in  Man." 


80  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Spanish  beauty,  alike  to  native  and  foreigner. 
There  is  another  characteristic  of  the  Spanish 
woman  which  I  have  never  seen  mentioned, 
but  which  seems  to  me  very  fundamental,  very 
significant  of  a  special  quality  of  nervous  texture. 
I  refer  to  the  comparative  immobility  of  the 
face,  the  absence  of  unnecessary  movement. 
The  contrast  in  this  respect  with  the  face  of 
the  average  Englishwoman  is  considerable.  If 
one  walks  through  a  crowded  English  city  and 
looks  at  the  women's  faces,  one  notes  that,  in 
many  if  not  in  most  cases,  the  face  is  in  constant 
meaningless  movement,  the  forehead  v/rinkling, 
the  eyes  tremulous,  the  mouth  twitching,  the  ex- 
pression suggesting  obscure  physiological  distress; 
in  the  better-bred  people  the  restless  movement 
is  less  conspicuous,  being  replaced  by  an  equally 
painful  sense  of  artificial  tension.  But  the 
Spanish  woman  exhibits  the  minimum  of  this 
confused  fluctuation  of  muscular  movement. 
Whether  or  not  she  is  observed,  she  is  serene, 
motionless,  self-possessed.  Her  face  withstands 
your  gaze,  graciously  indeed,  but  coolly  and 
firmly  as  a  marble  statue.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  the  English  face  with  its  fleshy  pink- 
ness  looks  positively  indecent  beside  the  finely 
toned  skin  of  the  Spaniard,  and  one  is  almost 
tempted  to  think  that  this  complexion  acts  as 
a  shield,  of  which  the  northerner  is  deprived.  It 
is   doubtless   because   of  this   muscular  control 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         81 

that  to  gaze  on  a  woman  in  Spain  is  by  no 
means  an  offensive  act ;  it  causes  no  embarrass- 
ment ;  it  is  a  form  of  flattery  well  suited  to  a 
dignified,  silent,  and  intense  race,  and  in  Spanish 
poems  and  novels  the  mirada,  this  long  gaze, 
plays  an  important  part. 

The  adequate  adjustment  of  nervous  force 
to  muscular  movement  is,  in  the  best  sense, 
an  animal  quality ;  it  is  the  quality  which 
gives  animals,  living  in  nature,  their  perfect 
grace.  In  Northern  France,  in  England,  in 
America,  the  influences  of  civilisation  lead  to 
an  excess  of  irritable  nervous  energy,  which  is 
always  overflowing,  meaninglessly  and  there- 
fore ungracefully  and  awkwardly,  into  all  the 
muscular  channels  of  the  body.  In  this  excess 
of  restless  nervous  energy  the  qualities  of 
our  modern  civilised  temperament  largely  lie, 
and  it  is  this  probably,  more  than  anything 
else,  which  removes  us  so  far  from  the 
Spaniard.  The  existence  of  a  general  dis- 
tinction is  clearly  as  present  to  the  Spanish  as 
to  the  foreign  mind.  It  is  often  a  little  sur- 
prising to  the  Englishman  to  find  that  he  is 
nearly  always,  in  the  first  place,  supposed  to  be 
a  Frenchman,  or,  as  I  heard  myself  described 
by  a  more  precise  Spaniard,  "that  French  or 
English  gentleman."  To  the  average  Spaniard 
the  difference  is  clearly  small  or  none,  and  a 
party  of  Catalan  ladies,  with  whom  I  once  found 

G 


82  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

myself  travelling,  though  they  knew  me  to  be 
English,  brought  out  their  small  stock  of  French 
words  in  my  honour,  and  sought  to  please  me 
by  saying  what  a  fine  place  Paris  must  be. 
When,  however,  a  few  days  later,  I  found  myself 
once  more  in  Paris,  I  realised  that  this  con- 
fusion is  not  so  absurd  as  at  first  it  seems  to 
us.  I  felt  at  once  that  I  belonged  to  these 
people  as  I  could  not  possibly  belong  to  the 
Spaniards.  The  difi"erences  between  Englishmen 
and  northern  Frenchmen  are  indeed  very  im- 
portant, but  they  are  slight  difi'erences,  and  to 
the  untravelled  Spaniard,  whose  civilisation  and 
whose  character — though  not  without  its  marked 
affinities  for  the  English  character — has  traits 
and  traditions  which  are  Moorish,  mediaeval,  and 
still  more  primitive,  they  may  seem  to  have 
scarcely  any  existence  at  all. 

In  connection  with  this  special  nervous  quality 
of  the  Spanish  woman  which  seems  to  me  so 
significant,  I  may  refer  to  her  general  attitude 
towards  men.  In  England,  especially  in  any 
urban  centre,  if  one  observes  a  young  woman — 
any  ordinary  young  woman  of  the  people — talk- 
ing casually  with  a  man  in  the  street,  one  may 
usually  note  that,  though  they  are  probably 
speaking  of  the  most  indifi'erent  subjects,  her 
face  is  full  of  the  consciousness  of  her  sex ;  her 
whole  nervous  system  is  instinctively  afl'ected 
by  the  fact  that  she  is  a  woman  before  a  man- 


THE  WOMEN   OF  SPAIN         83 

In  France,  thougti  more  restrained  and  less 
naively  expressed,  the  same  tendency  is  still 
emphatically  present.  But  it  is  seldom  obvious 
in  the  Spanish  woman,  whose  manner  towards 
a  man,  gracious  as  it  may  be,  is  always  cool 
and  self-possessed ;  she  sees  the  man  but  is  not 
embarrassingly  conscious  of  the  possible  lover. 
Dona  Pardo  Bazan  remarks  that  it  is  a  mistake 
to  suppose  that  the  Spanish  woman  possesses 
in  a  high  degree  what  the  French  call  "  tem- 
perament." Probably  she  is  right.  No  doubt 
there  are  great  possibilities  of  passion  in  the 
Spanish  woman — the  Spanish  qualities  of  mysti- 
cism, ardour,  and  tenacity  would  alone  indicate 
this — and  those  possibilities  not  seldom  lead  to 
tragic  results;  but  the  very  intensity  of  this 
disposition  is  opposed  to  emotional  facility. 
All  the  old  Spanish  traditions  show  that  the 
women  of  this  race  required  much  wooing ;  a 
certain  chastity  corresponding  to  their  extreme 
sobriety  seems  to  lie  in  the  temperament  of  the 
people.^ 

This  proud  reticence,  the  absence  of  any  easy 
erethic  response  to  masculine  advances,  is  the 
probable  source  of  that  erotic  superiority  of 
women,  the  sexual  subjection  of  men,  which  has 

^  They  also  demanded  much  discretion  in  their  lovers.  "The 
Spaniard,"  said  Howell,  "is  a  great  servant  of  ladies,  yet  he  never 
brags  of,  nor  blazes  abroad,  his  doings  in  that  way,  but  is  exceedingly 
careful  of  the  repute  of  any  woman,  a  civility  that  we  much  want  in 
England."     The  same  point  is  reported  in  Spanish  countries  to-day. 


84  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

often  been  noted  as  characteristic  of  Spain,  and 
is  indeed   symbolised  in  the  profound   Spanish 
adoration  for  the  Virgin  Mary.     It  is  probably 
very  primitive.     Strabo,  perhaps  a  little  exces- 
sively, even  speaks  of  "  gynecocracy "    or   rule 
of  women  among  the  ancient  Iberians,  and  Bloch 
considers   that   a   persistent  relic  of   the   early 
matriarchal  period  was  transformed  into  chival- 
rous romance  and  supremely  illustrated  in  the 
great  Spanish  romance  oi  Amadis  of  Gaul}     In 
the  Celestina,  when  Calisto  is  asked  if  he  is  a 
Christian,    he   replies :    "I    am   a  Meliboean :  I 
worship   Meliboea,    I    believe   in   Meliboea,  and 
I  love  Meliboea."     At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  a  thoughtful  German  observer  in  Spain, 
after  referring  to  the  seeming  lack  of  modesty  in 
the  speech  and  the  eyes  of  Spanish  women,  and 
their  "  masculine  boldness,"   adds  that  it  is  a 
great  mistake  to  imagine  that  they  yield  easily 
to  love,  and  any  liberty  on  the  part  of  a  man 
is  not  well  taken,  for  they  are  proud.     "They 
wish  to  choose  and  not  to  be  chosen,  they  play 
the  man's  part,  and  it  is  for  him  to  yield  and 
sacrifice  himself.     That  is  why  a  reticent,  shy, 
and  cold  man  has  more  success  with  them  than 
an  ardent  and  passionate  lover."  ^      This  state- 
ment may  be  put  somewhat  extravagantly,  but 

^  Iwan  Bloch,  Beitrdge  zur  Aetiologie  der  Psychopathia  Sexualis, 
vol.  ii.  p.  150. 

^  0.  A.  Fischer,  Eeise  von  Amsterdam  ueber  Madrid,  1799,  pp.  195 
et  seq. 


THE   WOMEN   OF   SPAIN         85 

it  doubtless  corresponds  to  a  real  psychological 
fact  which  in  some  degree  still  persists. 

We  may  associate  this  position  of  women  in 
Old  Spain  with  the  recognition  that  was  accorded 
under  many  circumstances  to  unmarried  mothers 
and  the  relative  absence  of  the  social  stigma  else- 
where generally  attached  to  illegitimate  children. 
This  was  doubtless  a  survival  of  primitive  matri- 
archal conditions,  but  it  was  adhered  to  with 
great  tenacity  by  Spaniards,  and  even  the  not 
uncommon  practice  of  a  legitimate  son  preferring 
to  use  the  name  of  his  mother  rather  than  that 
of  his  father  shows  the  absence  of  any  ostenta- 
tious preference  for  paternal  descent.  This  is  a 
remarkable  feature  in  the  domestic  life  of  medi- 
aeval Spain,  which  has  left  an  impress  on  the 
laws  even  to-day,  and  it  is  interesting  to  observe 
how  the  women  of  what  is  commonly  regarded  as 
the  most  bigoted  Catholic  country  succeeded  in 
preserving  a  freedom  and  privilege  which  even 
in  the  free  Protestant  countries  has  never  yet 
been  established  and  only  of  late  claimed.^ 

Nowadays,  Dona  Pardo  Bazan  states,  chivalry 
towards  women  is  in  Spain  nothing  more  than 
a  code  of  antiquated  and  empty  formalities, 
and  she  considers  that  the  social  position  of  the 

^  See  Burke,  History  of  Spain,  vol.  i.  Appendix  II.  :  "On 
customary  concubinage  or  barraganeria,"  the  recognised  concubine 
being  called  a  barragana.  In  1679  Innocent  XI.  felt  called  upon  to 
condemn  formally  the  proposition  of  the  Spanish  theologian,  Sanchez, 
that  concubines  should  not  under  all  circumstances  be  cast  forth. 


86  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

Spanisli  woman  generally  has  been  lowered  by 
the  introduction  of  constitutionalism  and  the 
accompanying  modern  institutions.  In  the  old 
days  the  Spanish  woman  was  more  on  a  level 
with  the  Spanish  man ;  what  interested  him 
interested  her ;  she  could  engage  in  any  activity 
and  occupy  the  highest  place  in  the  State,  while 
in  the  sphere  of  religious  ardour  men  and  women 
could  rival  each  other  in  saintliness.  This  state 
of  things  has  given  place  to  a  political  system, 
devoid  of  either  religious  or  patriotic  enthusiasm, 
in  which  all  the  rights  belong  to  men,  and 
women  have  nothinsj  but  duties.  The  social 
position  of  women,  their  intellectual  interests, 
and  their  personal  initiative  have  consequently 
been  depressed.^ 

If  this  is  the  case,  it  is  a  transitory  phase 
which  will  pass  with  the  inevitable  expansion  of 
our  modern  political  methods.  There  is  indeed 
no  enthusiastic  movement  in  Spain  for  conferring 
the  suffrage  on  women.  "  The  suffrage  in 
Spain,"  as  Posada  remarks,  "  can  scarcely  be 
called  such  ;  it  exists  in  law,  but  in  practice  it  is 
an  indecorous  and  unworthy  farce.  How  is  it 
possible  for  men  to  feel  the  necessity  of  giving 
it   to   women,  or   for   women  to  be  anxious  to 

1  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan,  "La  Femme  Espagnole,"  Revue  des  Revues, 
February  1,  1896.  Concepcion  Arenal,  one  of  the  most  eminent 
of  modern  Spanish  women,  who  had  been  appointed  Inspector  of 
Prisons  by  Queen  Isabella,  was  deprived  of  that  post  by  the  Revolu- 
tionary Government,  merely  on  the  ground  that  she  was  a  woman. 


THE  WOMEN   OF  SPAIN         87 

become,  like  the  great  majority  of  Spanish  men, 
merely  honorary  voters  ?  "  ^  Spain  has  adopted 
the  English  parliamentary  system,  which  was  not 
the  outcome  of  her  own  history  and  which  she 
has  not  been  able  to  assimilate.  As  her  political 
and  social  development  enters  a  more  vital  stage, 
no  doubt  the  women  of  Spain  will  naturally  and 
inevitably  take  the  part  in  the  national  life  which 
they  are  so  well  fitted  to  take. 

Salillas,  the  Spanish  sociologist,  who  has  so 
often  discussed  in  an  illuminative  w^ay  the 
psychology  of  his  own  people,  somewhere 
remarks  that  the  Spanish  woman  is  a  tame 
savage.  Such  a  generalisation  contains  as 
much  truth  as  most  attempts  to  reduce  complex 
phenomena  to  simplicity.  It  may  be  said  that 
the  typical  Spanish  woman,  as  Spaniards  see  her, 
is  specially  marked  by  sweetness  and  strength. 
Just  as  the  typical  Italian  woman  seems  to 
suggest  tenderness  and  maternity,  the  typical 
Teutonic  woman  purity  and  reserve,  so  the 
ideal  Spanish  woman  is  at  once  strong,  inde- 
pendent, self-contained,  and  at  the  same  time 
wholesomely  gracious  and  gentle.  She  is,  as 
Valera  says,  angelic  but  robust. 

In  foreign  representations  the  Spanish  woman 
is  usually  a  brilliant  and  reckless  creature, 
passionate  but  cruel,  peculiarly  adapted  to 
occupy  a  place  in  novels  and  pictures,  but  on 

1  Posada,  Feminismo,  p.  222. 


88  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

the  reverse  side  ignorant,  bigoted,  lazy,  and 
dirty.  M6rim^e's  and  Bizet's  Carmen  —  the 
cigarrera  who  slashes  the  face  of  another 
cigarrera,  and  who  possesses  over  men  a 
maddening  influence  which  she  exerts  to  their 
ruin — crystallises  into  a  whole  the  more  pic- 
turesque elements  of  this  conception,  and  is 
doubtless  largely  responsible  for  its  wide  dis- 
semination. It  is  true  that  M^rim^e  represented 
his  Carmen  as  more  or  less  of  a  gipsy.  But,  as 
he  was  himself  well  aware,  in  many  respects  his 
Carmen  was  not  and  could  not  be  a  gipsy.  Louys, 
again,  in  La  Femme  et  le  Pantin,  presents  the 
conventional  picture  of  the  bold  and  bad 
Sevillian  cigarrera,  and  represents  the  tobacco 
factory  itself  in  a  somewhat  appalling  light, 
while  Baedeker  speaks  of  it  as  an  unpleasant 
and  malodorous  spot,  which  no  one  should  visit 
for  pleasure.  Bearing  this  in  mind,  my  own 
visit  to  the  Fabrica,  together  with  a  small  party, 
was  planned  not  without  some  misgiving.  So 
far,  however,  from  being  unpleasant,  the  Fabrica 
seemed  to  me  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots 
in  this  delightful  city,  and  one  of  the  most 
picturesque.  The  workrooms  are  vast  chambers, 
supported  by  great  piers  and  resembling  cathedral 
crypts,  airy,  scarcely  redolent  even  of  tobacco, 
and  occupied  by  girls  and  women,  who  have 
changed  their  out-door  dresses,  which  hang  all 
round  the  walls,   but   remain   fully  dressed   in 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN         89 

various  costumes,  and  are  so  absorbed  in  their 
work,  except  when  they  turn  to  the  babies  some 
have  brought  with  them,  that  even  the  hum  of 
conversation  is  scarcely  heard  and  but  few 
workers  look  up  as  the  strangers  pass.  Every 
workroom  has  its  duly  decorated  altar,  and  here 
and  there  one  notes  a  beautiful  carnation  placed 
in  water  while  its  owner  is  at  work.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  deny,  and  there  is  ample  evidence 
to  show,  that  life  in  this  Fabrica,  as  in  the 
factories  elsewhere  in  which  women  are  con- 
fined together  under  undomestic  conditions, 
leads  to  the  development  in  predisposed  indi- 
viduals of  various  evil  passions  and  to  quarrels 
that  are  sometimes  even  fatal.  Yet  a  more 
restful  and  charming  scene  of  labour,  and  one  more 
typically  Spanish,  it  could  not  be  possible  to  find. 
A  few  days  after  my  visit  to  the  Fabrica  the 
annual  festival  of  the  Sevillian  cigarreras,  the 
Kermesse,  took  place  in  the  Eslava  Gardens. 
Imagining  that  if  I  saw  the  cigarrera  at  play  I 
might  find  that  the  conventional  traditions  were 
more  exact  than  appeared  from  the  contemplation 
of  the  cigarrera  at  work,  I  duly  visited  the 
Eslava  Gardens.  Nothing  could  be  more  remote 
from  the  Flemish  conception  of  a  Kermesse.  It 
was  really  a  kind  of  bazaar,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
workers,  but  quite  free  from  the  vulgarities  of  an 
English  bazaar.  Every  stall  was  presided  over 
by  a  group  of  shy,  gracious,  beautiful  cigarreras 


90  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

— evidently  the  finest  flowers  of  the  factory — all 
dressed  in  their  very  best  Andalusian  attire. 
The  Spaniard  has  none  of  the  instincts  of  the 
commercial  traveller,  and  I  could  not  see  that 
one  of  the  girls  ever  ofi'ered  her  wares  for  sale, 
or  even  addressed  a  stranger  at  all,  though  the 
final  results  of  the  sale  seem  to  have  been  con- 
siderable. On  a  stage  a  number  of  the  women 
were  sitting  in  a  semicircle,  and  dancing  from 
time  to  time  the  characteristic  sevillanas  and 
other  dances,  in  a  simple,  unafi'ected,  often,  it 
must  be  said,  very  amateurish  way.  So  again  I 
went  away  confirmed  in  my  first  impression. 
Clearly  one  was  indeed  far  away  here  from  the 
typical  English  factory-girl,  but  one  was  scarcely 
less  remote  from  the  insolent  cigarrera  of 
legend. 

If  one  distrusts  one's  own  impressions,  it  is 
interesting  to  see  how  the  Spaniards  themselves 
depict  their  women.  Dona  Pardo  Bazan  has 
chosen  a  cigarrera  as  the  heroine  of  one  of  her  best 
as  well  as  most  realistic  novels.  La  Trihuna} 
Amparo  is  not  only  a  cigarrera  but  the  daughter 
of  a  cigarrera^  and  having  become  a  partisan  of 
republican  opinions  through  reading  the  news- 
papers, she  takes  a  prominent  local  part  in  the 
movements  of  1868,  as  a  sort  of  tribune  of  the 

1  Dona  Pardo  Bazan  has  since  stated  that  before  writing  this  book 
she  spent  two  mouths,  morning  and  afternoon,  in  the  tobacco  factory 
of  her  own  city  of  Corunna. 


THE   WOMEN   OF  SPAIN         91 

people,  a  woman  "  whose  heart  was  softer  than 
silk,  who  could  not  hurt  a  fly,  and  yet  was  capable 
of  demanding  the  one  hundred  thousand  heads 
of  those  who  live  by  sucking  the  blood  of  the 
people."^  At  the  same  time,  however,  she  falls 
in  love  with  a  man  of  higher  class  than  herself, 
who  seduces  her  under  promise  of  marriage,  and 
finally,  as  the  revolutionary  movement  dies  out, 
Amparo  is  left  to  become  a  mother,  abandoned 
but  not  crushed. 

Amparo,  notwithstanding  her  southern  ardour 
and  impetuosity,  belongs  to  Corunna,  to 
Northern  Spain,  Dona  Bazan's  own  country.  If, 
however,  we  turn  to  the  novels  of  Valera,  who 
has  devoted  himself  to  the  delineation  of  the 
women  of  his  own  Andalusian  land,  we  find  the 
same  qualities  of  energy,  independence,  and 
courage — the  firm  resolve  to  lead  one's  own  life 
and  possess  one's  own  soul — that  seem  to  me 
to  mark  Spanish  women  in  an  unusually  high 
degree.  In  a  book  which  he  describes  as  less  a 
novel  than  "  a  mirror  or  photographic  reproduc- 
tion of  the  people  and  things  of  the  province  in 
which  I  was  born,"  Juanita  la  Larga,  Valera's 
most  detailed  portrait  of  a  girl  of  the  people,  the 
heroine  reveals  the  same  fundamental  vigour  and 

^  I  may  remark  that  the  cigarreras  have  strong  political  convic- 
tions. The  marriage  of  the  Infanta,  the  Princess  of  Asturias,  a  few 
years  ago,  was  extremely  unpopular  in  Spain,  and  when,  in  celebration 
of  this  event,  the  authorities  sent  theatre  tickets  to  the  cigarreras 
they  were  returned. 


92  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

independence  as  Amparo,  though  in  this  case 
united  with  the  most  solid  common  sense,  and 
exerted  exclusively  within  the  sphere  of  her  own 
personal  everyday  life.  She  is  an  illegitimate 
child,  but  by  force  of  her  personal  qualities  she 
wins  the  esteem  and  regard  of  all,  and  finally 
marries  one  of  the  chief  persons  in  the  village, 
a  man  much  older  than  herself,  whom  she  has 
slowly  learnt  to  love  and  respect.  Juanita's 
vigour  and  solidity  are  as  marked  on  the  physical 
as  on  the  mental  side.  At  seventeen  she  could 
run  like  a  deer,  throw  stones  with  such  precision 
that  she  could  kill  sparrows,  and  leap  on  the 
back  of  the  wildest  colt  or  mule,  to  ride  not 
astride  but  sideways ;  while,  a  little  later,  when 
the  advances  of  a  wealthy  admirer  became  too 
aggressive,  she  was  able  to  lay  him  dexterously 
on  the  floor  and  to  render  him  henceforth  her 
humble  servant.^    In  the  same  way  Blasco  Ibanez, 

^  Elsewhere,  in  the  course  of  a  detailed  and  interesting  essay  on  the 
women  of  his  own  province  of  Cordova  ("  La  Cordobesa  "),  Valera  has 
some  remarks  on  this  aspect  of  the  Spanish  woman.  After  observing 
that  the  poorest  girl  will  talk  of  her  honour  like  a  heroine  of  Calderon, 
tie  adds  :  "  When  that  is  not  sufficient,  she  neither  screams  nor  makes 
any  disturbance  or  scandal,  but  defends  herself  like  a  Penthesilea  ;  she 
wrestles  as  the  angel  wrestled  with  Jacob  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
and,  robust  though  angelic,  she  is  able  to  trip  and  throw  him  and 
even  to  give  him  a  pummelling,  and  all  this  with  an  eloquence  that 
remains  marvellously  silent ;  nor  is  this  singular,  for  among  poor 
girls,  even  those  of  well-to-do  families  of  the  labouring  class,  there 
is  a  notable  robustness.  They  are  harder  than  marble,  not  only 
in  their  hearts,  not  only  at  the  centre  but  all  over  the  surface." 
After  narrating  incidents  in  point  from  his  own  observation,  Valera 
adds  :  "  I  do  not  imply  anything  that  would  diminish  or  disfigure  in 


THE   WOMEN   OF   SPAIN         93 

who  has  an  incomparable  knowledge  of  the 
psychology  of  the  Spanish  people  of  to-day  as 
well  as  of  their  ways  of  life,  describes  in  his 
Flor  de  Mayo  a  young  woman  who  could  meet 
"  audacious  proposals  with  gestures  of  contempt, 
a  pinch  with  a  blow,  and  a  stolen  embrace  with 
a  superb  kick  which  had  more  than  once  felled  to 
the  ground  a  big  youth  as  strong  and  firm  as  the 
mast  of  his  boat." 

While  to-day  we  naturally  find  this  attitude 
described  as  more  especially  pertaining  to  women 
of  the  people,  it  is  essentially  that  of  the  ideal 
Spanish  woman  throughout  Spanish  literature. 
It  is  this  type  of  woman  which  Cervantes  delights 
in  throughout  Don  Quixote,  as  well  as  in  The 
Exemplary  Novels.  The  "  Illustre  Fregona,"  for 
instance,  who  is  described  as  very  beautiful,  with 
cheeks  made  of  roses  and  jessamine,  is  yet,  like 
Valera's  women,  "  as  hard  as  marble."  Sancho's 
daughter  was  "  as  tall  as  a  lance,  and  as  fresh  as 
an  April  morning,  and  as  strong  as  a  porter." 
"  I  know  her  well,"  said  Sancho  of  the  peasant 
girl  whom  Don  Quixote  identified  with  Dulcinea, 
"  and  let  me  tell  you  she  can  fling  a  crowbar  as 
well  as  the  lustiest  lad  in  all  the  town.  She  is  a 
brave  lass  and  a  right  and  stout  one,  and  fit  to 

the  least  the  beauty  and  charm  of  my  fellow-countrywomen.  Density 
and  firmness  is  one  thing,  unwieldy  size  another.  The  girl  who  works 
from  childhood,  walks  much,  goes  to  the  fountain  to  return  with  her 
full  pitcher  resting  on  her  hip  or  with  the  clothes  she  has  washed  in 
the  stream,  is  not  fat,  but  she  is  strong." 


94  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

be  helpmate  to  any  knight-errant  that  is  or  is  to 
be,  who  may  make  her  his  lady.  What  pith  she 
has,  and  what  a  voice !  And  the  best  of  her  is 
that  she  is  not  a  bit  prudish,  for  she  has  plenty 
of  affability,  and  jokes  with  everybody,  and  has 
a  grin  and  jest  for  everything."  This  ability 
to  "  fling  a  crowbar  "  seems  to  have  descended  in 
a  but  little  changed  form  to  the  Spanish  damsel 
of  to-day.  Not  long  since  I  spent  a  Sunday  in 
the  old  Castilian  city  of  Palencia  and  watched 
how  the  women — stout  and  matronly  as  well  as 
young  women — amused  themselves  with  playing 
at  a  game  between  bowls  and  ninepins,  casting 
the  large  heavy  balls  along  the  grass  with  un- 
wearying satisfaction  during  the  whole  of  a  long 
afternoon  in  the  most  business-like  and  yet 
gleeful  manner,  while  a  few  children  stood 
looking  on  at  their  elders.  I  have  never  seen 
English  women  of  the  people,  or  indeed  the 
women  of  any  other  land,  playing  at  anything 
so  vigorously  healthy  and  innocent  for  the  sheer 
joy  of  muscular  exertion,  and  a  race  whose 
mothers  have  so  much  wholesome  energy  to 
spare  can  scarcely  be  very  exhausted  or  decadent. 
It  is  of  interest  to  note  this  aspect  of  the 
Spanish  ideal  of  women,  in  life  and  in  literature, 
for  it  is  widely  unlike  that  which  has  until 
lately  prevailed  in  England.  Shakespeare  often 
found  it  convenient  to  put  his  heroines  into 
men's   clothes,   but  it  never   occurs  to  him  to 


THE   WOMEN   OF  SPAIN         95 

sum  up  their  feminine  charms  in  the  epitaph — 
which  Cervantes  has  written  over  "  Las  Dos 
Doncellas,"  who  girded  on  swords  and  went  out 
into  the  world  in  search  of  their  lovers — that 
they  were  "  as  daring  as  they  were  virtuous," 
although,  rightly  considered,  with  regard  to  the 
special  circumstances  of  women's  lives,  daring 
is  as  much  a  feminine  as  a  masculine  virtue. 
However  much  his  women  may  seem  to  vary, 
Shakespeare  nearly  always  selects  ultra-feminine 
types,  and  clearly  delights  to  dwell  on  their 
gentleness,  dependence,  and  weakness.  It  is  the 
same,  though  usually  in  a  less  pronounced  degree, 
with  the  other  Elizabethan  and  Jacobean  drama- 
tists ;  and  for  the  original  of  their  "  Roaring  Girl," 
who  is  a  little  in  the  Spanish  manner,  Middleton 
and  Dekker  had  to  seek  rather  low  in  London 
life.  The  heroines  of  the  robust  literature  of  the 
eighteenth  century  were  much  more  concerned 
to  achieve  daintiness  than  vigour ;  while  Dickens 
and  Thackeray,  the  most  popular  and  admired 
novelists  of  the  nineteenth  century,  were  eager 
to  idealise  the  lowest  stages  of  feminine  feeble- 
ness and  inanity.  Meredith,  with  his  ideals  of 
robust  and  independent  womanhood.  Hardy, 
with  his  spontaneous  and  autonomous  heroines, 
are  the  representatives  of  a  more  modern 
spirit.  It  is  of  interest  to  find  that  the 
more  vigorous  ideal,  in  harmony  with  our  de- 
veloping  conception    of   the    place    of  women. 


96  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

has  always  been  held  in  honour  in  Spanish 
literature/ 

In  this  matter  Spanish  literature  corresponds 
to  the  facts  of  Spanish  life.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  vigour  and  independence 
of  character  notable  in  the  finest  Spanish 
women  of  to-day,  and  so  often  reflected  in 
Spanish  literature,  is  a  characteristic  which 
stretches  very  far  back  in  the  history  of  the 
Spanish  race,  and  is  by  no  means  entirely  due, 
as  the  considerations  I  brought  forward  at  the 
outset  might  suggest,  to  any  modern  efi'eminisa- 
tion  of  the  men.  Even  in  the  fourth  century 
Spanish  women  insisted  on  retaining  their  own 
names  after  marriage,  for  we  find  the  Synod  of 
Elvira  trying  to  limit  this  freedom ;  ^  while  for 
long  afterwards  it  stiU  remained  possible  for  a 
man  to  assume  his  mother's  name.  The  greatest 
of  Spanish  painters  is  only  known  to  most  of  us 
by  the  name  of  his  mother,  a  Velazquez,  and 
even  to-day  it  is  not  unusual  for  a  Spaniard  to 
use  the  united  names  of  both  his  parents. 

I  have  emphasised  the  physical  qualities  of 

^  Tirso  de  Molina,  the  great  dramatist,  has  been  said  to  represent 
Spanish  life  and  Spanish  character  more  veraciously  and  more  realistic- 
ally than  any  other  Spanish  author.  Dona  Blanca  de  los  Rios  de 
Lamperez,  who  has  specially  devoted  herself  to  the  study  of  Tirso's 
life  and  works,  after  emphasising  this  point,  remarks,  that  though 
it  is  not  true,  as  some  have  said,  that  "all  his  vigour  is  in  his 
women  and  all  his  weakness  in  his  men,"  yet  he  seems  to  regard  virility 
as  a  quality  apart  from  sex,  and  bestows  it  on  women  as  well  as  on 
men. 

2  A.  W.  W.  Dale,  The  Synod  of  Elvira,  p.  172. 


THE   WOMEN   OF   SPAIN         97 

the  Spanish  woman,  but  it  must  always  be 
remembered  that  they  are  the  expression  of 
corresponding  qualities  of  intelligence  and  will. 
The  Spanish  woman  may  be  reticent  and 
reserved,  as  regards  her  most  real  self,  but  in 
her  most  characteristic  manifestations  she  is 
prompt  and  witty  and  alert,  like  Altisidora  in 
Don  Quixote,  the  ancestress  of  the  girls  whom 
we  meet  again  to-day  in  the  plays  of  Serafin  and 
Joaquin  Quintero,  frank,  independent,  outspoken, 
self-possessed,  always  charming.  Even  in  the 
most  dubious  avocations  of  life,  the  qualities  of 
Spanish  women  have  been  triumphantly  vindi- 
cated. In  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  genuinely 
Spanish  of  Spanish  novels.  La  Lozana  Andcduza, 
which  Francisco  Delicado,  a  Spanish  priest  from 
Cordova,  wrote  in  Rome  in  the  year  1524  for  the 
solace  of  his  own  sufferings,  we  have  the  whole 
detailed  and  instructive  history  of  a  Cordovan 
woman  who  was,  as  the  author  is  careful  to  tell 
us,  the  fellow-countrywoman  of  Seneca,  not  only 
by  birth  but  by  intelligence  and  experience 
and  knowledge,  while  she  was  lozana,  as  he 
also  points  out,  in  the  full  meaning  of  that 
term,  which  implies  beauty  and  elegance  and 
vivacity  and  frankness.  Yet  she  was  a  courtesan. 
At  Carmona,  near  Seville,  where  she  learnt  the 
occupation  of  a  weaver,  she  was  noted  for  her 
beauty  and  her  grace  ;  she  was  athletic  also,  for 
we  incidentally  learn  that  she  was  in  the  habit 

H 


98  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

of  jumping  over  walls ;  and  she  had  wit. 
Aldonza  was  still  young  when  she  fell  in  love 
with  a  handsome  young  Genoese  merchant  and 
ran  away  with  him,  travelling  much  in  the 
Levant  and  elsewhere,  and  having  several 
children.  He  meant  to  marry  her,  but  his 
father  interfered,  separated  them,  and  sent  her 
off,  meaning  her  to  be  drowned,  but  she  escaped 
in  her  shift  and  holding  a  valuable  ring  in  her 
mouth,  and  came  to  Rome  in  the  days  of  Pope 
Leo  X.,  when  all  the  most  pagan  forms  of 
gallantry  were  held  in  honour.  Aldonza  here 
falls  in  with  a  young  valet,  Rampin,  who 
becomes  her  lover  as  well  as  her  servant,  but 
who  is  never  jealous,  and  her  career  as  a 
courtesan  begins.  Delicado  always  insists  on 
the  grace  of  his  heroine,  on  her  bold  courage,  on 
her  clever  speech.  She  can  be  all  things  to  all 
men,  "  a  Christian  with  Christians,  a  Jewess  with 
Jews,  Turkish  with  the  Turks,  a  hidalgo  with 
hidalgos,  Genoese  with  the  Genoese,  and  French 
with  the  French."  At  the  same  time  she  is  by 
no  means  without  the  domestic  virtues,  and  is 
an  excellent  cook.  Aldonza  always  remains  very 
Spanish  even  at  Rome.  "  Spanish  women  are 
the  best  and  the  most  perfect,"  some  one  remarks 
in  this  novel,  even  among  courtesans.  Aldonza 
says  she  believes  it,  for  there  are  no  such  women 
anywhere.  Finally,  she  leaves  Rome  with  her 
old  valet  Rampin  for  the  Island  of  Lipari ;  here 


THE   WOMEN  OF   SPAIN         99 

she  changes  her  name  to  Vellida,  and  finishes 
her  life  in  holy  fashion — muy  santamente — 
according  to  the  Spanish  tradition,  having,  the 
clerical  author  points  out  in  a  final  defence  of 
his  heroine,  taken  care  always  to  earn  her  own 
living,  and  never  to  off"end  God  or  injure  her 
neighbour.  Thus  nearly  four  centuries  ago  we 
find  clearly  set  forth  in  rough  outline  that  type 
of  which  Valera  has  given  the  finest  and  the 
latest  picture  in  Kafaela  la  Generosa. 

La  Lozana  Andaluza,  whether  or  not  it 
was  founded  on  life,  was  quite  true  to  life  in 
representing  the  success  of  Spanish  women 
as  courtesans  in  the  splendid  Rome  of  the 
Renaissance.  TuUia  d'  Aragona,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished among  the  Roman  courtesans  of  that 
age,  an  almost  austere  figure  indeed,  commanding 
the  respect  of  the  best  men  and  women  of  her 
time,  is  believed  to  have  been  Spanish,  the 
daughter  of  Cardinal  d'  Aragona,  an  illegitimate 
scion  of  the  Spanish  royal  family.^  Isabella  de 
Luna,  again,  another  famous  Roman  courtesan  of 
the  Renaissance,  was  also  Spanish.  She  had, 
like  Aldonza,  travelled  much,  even  in  North 
Africa,  also  following  the  Imperial  Court  to 
Flanders,  and  she  appears  to  have  been  a  charming 
and  intelligent  woman,  much  esteemed  in  Rome 
and  highly  spoken  of  by  Bandello.^ 

*  G.  Biagi,  "Un  Etera  Romaiia,"  JVuova  Antologia,  1886,  pp.  655- 
711.  *  A.  Graf,  Attraverso  il  Cinquecento,  p.  234, 


100  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

It  is  so  usual  for  writers  on  Spanish  women 
to  dwell  on  the  eminence  they  have  attained  as 
queens  and  as  saints,  that  it  seemed  as  well  to 
point  out  that  the  great  personal  qualities  of  the 
women  of  this  race  have  been  very  far  from 
confining  them  to  success  in  merely  the  more 
honoured  avocations  of  the  throne  and  the  con- 
vent, or  the  more  modern  platform,  but  have 
also  enabled  them  to  inspire  respect  and  admira- 
11  tion  even  in  those  walks  of  life  which  are  counted 

least  honourable ;  although  it  is  perhaps  a 
significant  fact  that,  as  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan 
remarks,  the  famous  Spanish  courtesans  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  as  well  as  to-day,  have  attained 
fame  and  success  in  foreign  lands,  and  been  little 
known  in  their  own  land. 

Spanish  women  have  likewise  been  pioneers 
on  the  stage.  According  to  Devrient,  it  was  in 
Spain  that  women  first  assumed  women's  parts, 
although  actresses  appeared  in  Venice  not  much 
later.  Spanish  actresses  are  mentioned  in  1534, 
in  an  ordinance  of  Charles  V.^  Shakespeare  was 
compelled  to  entrust  his  women's  parts  to  boys, 
bub  his  Spanish  contemporary.  Lope  de  Vega, 
could  give  his  women's  parts  to  women,  to  the 
"  divine  "  Antonia  Granada  and  others. 

Spanish  women  have  often  willingly  sought 
the  convent  and  gained  the  highest  fame  there ; 
St.    Theresa,    though    sometimes    counted    the 

*  Devrieut,  G'eschichtc  dcr  deutsclicn  Schauspielkunst,  1848,  vol.  i. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN       101 

victim  of  hysteria,^  is  deservedly  considered  the 
greatest  woman  who  ever  lived  in  a  cloister. 
But  if  Spanish  women  have  often  willingly 
entered  the  convent,  they  have  sometimes  will- 
ingly left  it,  temporarily  or  for  ever,  for  other 
less  spiritual  occupations,  even  a  military  career 
or  the  bull-ring,  acquiring  therein  also  both 
success  and  fame.^  Calderon  was  not  violating 
probability  when,  in  the  Devocion  de  la  Cruz,  he 
represented  a  nun  as  escaping  from  the  cloister 
to  become  a  captain  of  bandits,  while  the  ex- 
ploits of  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan's  heroine,  Amparo, 

^  The  serious  disorders  which  began  to  afflict  St.  Theresa  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  and  never  entirely  left  her  during  the  remaining  fifty 
years  of  her  life,  being  doubtless  also  intimately  connected  with  all 
her  activities  and  ways  of  feeling  and  thinking,  are  vaguely  termed 
"hysterical,"  but  there  is  no  exact  agreement  among  even  the  most 
competent  medical  authorities  who  have  studied  her  history.  Thus 
while  Georges  Dumas  regards  her  as  strictly  hysterical,  Pierre  Janet 
considers  that  she  was  a  psychastheniac  who,  as  it  were,  aspires  to 
hysteria,  that  is  to  say,  seeks  an  automatism  of  action  which  she  never 
succeeds  in  attaining.  (Discussion  at  the  Soci6t6  de  Psychologie, 
Revue  Scientifique,  May  12,  1906.)  But  when  morbid  nervous  and 
psychic  manifestations  are  combined  with  genius  the  results  defy 
even  the  most  subtle  analysis.  An  interesting  picture  of  St. 
Theresa's  practical  activities,  it  may  be  added,  is  presented  in  Mrs. 
Cunninghame  Graham's  biography,  Santa  Teresa. 

^  Thus  Dona  Maria  de  Gaucin,  according  to  Mme.  Dieulafoy 
{Aragon  et  Valericia,  1901,  p.  21),  left  the  convent  to  become  a  torero, 
in  which  career  she  was  distinguished  not  only  for  her  courage,  but 
also  her  beauty  and  virtue,  and  after  a  few  years,  during  which  she 
attained  renown  throughout  Spain,  she  peacefully  returned  to  the 
practice  of  religion  in  her  convent,  without,  it  appears,  any  reproaches 
from  the  sisters,  who  enjoyed  the  reflected  fame  of  her  exploits  in  the 
bull-ring.  One  of  Goya's  etchings  in  the  Arte  de  Lidiar  los  Toros,  I 
may  add,  represents  the  "  valor  varonil  "  of  "  la  celebre  Pajuelera  "  in 
the  Plaza  de  Toros  of  Saragossa. 


102  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

in  leading  popular  movements  are  strictly  true  to 
life.  When  I  was  in  Barcelona  a  few  years  ago, 
during  a  great  strike,  when  martial  law  was 
proclaimed  and  sanguinary  collisions  took  place 
between  the  people  and  the  military,  it  was 
remarked  that  an  unknown  work-girl  appeared 
as  an  organiser  and  leader  of  the  men  on  strike, 
encouraging  the  waverers  and  bringing  in  new 
recruits,  finally  disappearing,  still  unknown,  into 
the  obscurity  from  which  she  had  mysteriously 
emerged. 

It  is  not  alone  in  movements  of  revolt  that 
Spanish  women  have  been  leaders.  Concepcion 
Arenal,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  women  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  at  first  a  poet  and 
novelist,  then  a  collaborator  with  her  husband, 
a  distinguished  jurist,  became  a  leader  in  various 
social  and  moral  reforms,  more  especially  as  they 
afi'ected  Spain,  and  was  marked  by  her  sagacity 
and  good  sense.  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan — of  aristo- 
cratic origin,  and  belonging,  like  Concepcion 
Arenal,  to  Galicia — is  to-day  the  foremost  woman 
in  Spain,  and  perhaps  indeed  the  most  notable 
woman  of  letters  in  Europe.  Above  all  a 
novelist,  she  has  in  that  field  followed  the 
realistic  traditions  of  Spain  with  some  influences 
from  France,  but  with  the  versatility  so  usual 
among  the  writers  of  her  land,  she  has  con- 
cerned herself  with  criticism,  sociology,  and 
many    other    subjects,    always    with    brilliance, 


THE  WOMEN  OF  SPAIN       103 

insight,  and  sound  knowledge.  Like  Concepcion 
Arenal,  she  is  vividly  interested  in  the  destinies 
of  her  own  country,  and  in  all  the  questions 
that  aflfect  its  progress.^ 

Spanish  women  are  not  highly  educated,  as 
education  is  usually  counted  ;  a  large  proportion 
cannot  even  read  or  write.  But  there  is  perhaps 
no  European  country  where  one  realises  so 
clearly  how  little  this  really  means.  A  Spanish 
woman  of  the  people,  who  finds  it  a  laborious 
task  to  write  her  own  name,  may  yet  show  the 
finest  tact  and  knowledge  in  all  the  essential 
matters  of  living.  More  than  a  century  ago 
Casanova  remarked  on  the  superiority  of  Spanish 
women  in  intelligence.  To-day  Dona  Pardo 
Bazan  similarly  remarks  that  the  women  are 
superior  in  intelligence  to  the  men.  She  is 
referring  more  especially  to  the  upper  classes, 
but  the  same  is  perhaps  true  of  the  working 
classes.  Among  these,  as  Posada  observes,^ 
whether  in  town  or  country,  a  woman  receives 
a  preparation  for  life  not  inferior  to  a  man's ; 
she  co-operates  with  men,  and  her  work  is  often 
identical  with  theirs  and  as  capably  accom- 
plished, while  among  the  middle  classes  the 
women  lead  a  life  of  marked  inferiority,  in 
which   it   is    extremely    diiiicult    for    them    to 

^  DoBa  Pardo  Bazan   has  written  a  long  and  interesting  autobio- 
graphical introduction  to  her  novel  Los  Pazos  de  Ulloa. 
*  Posada,  Feminismo,  p.  212. 


104  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

reveal  their  real  qualities.  It  is  probably  among 
the  middle  class  that  women  appear  to  least 
advantage ;  lacking  both  the  privileges  of  the 
better  classes  and  the  freedom  of  the  lower 
classes,  they  are  without  opportunities  for  work 
in  the  world,  and  are  often  reduced  to  a  life 
of  cloistered  vacuity.  This  is  by  no  means  a 
survival  of  Moorish  Spain,  for  the  Moors  not 
only  bestowed  high  honour  on  their  women,  but 
a  very  thorough  education.  It  is  true  that  educa- 
tion is  open  to  women  in  Spain  ;  the  universities 
are  not  closed  to  them  ;  they  may  practise  medi- 
cine, although  few  have  yet  availed  themselves  of 
this  privilege.  But  opportunities  for  work  are 
few,  and  the  ancient  semi-oriental  traditions  in 
favour  of  the  secluded  life  of  women  still  prevail 
among  the  middle  class.  It  requires  great 
courage  and  resolution  for  a  Spanish  woman 
to  strike  out  a  path  of  her  own.  It  is  there- 
fore all  the  more  remarkable  that  women  have 
played  a  prominent  part  in  Spain,  and  have  had 
the  courage  to  face  difficulties  which  are  greater 
than  elsewhere,  like  Concepcion  Arenal,  who 
adopted  men's  garments  in  order  to  gain  a 
university  education,  at  that  time  not  yet  open 
to  women.^ 

^  The  adoption  of  male  costume  by  women  certainly  occurs  every- 
where, but  seems  to  be  specially  favoured  in  Spain  by  the  difficulties 
placed  in  the  way  of  feminine  careers.  Not  long  ago,  it  is  stated  (in 
1906),  the  authorities  of  Seville  were  surprised  to  discover  that  their 
oldest  and  most  respected  police  officer  was  really  a  woman.     Nearly 


THE  WOMEN   OF   SPAIN       105 

It  is  noteworthy  that,  in  spite  of  the  eflforts 
of  the  Church,  women  have  taken  an  enthusiastic 
share  in  the  progressive  religious  movements 
which  were  symbolised  a  few  years  ago  in 
Perez  Galdos's  play  Electra ;  while  in  politics 
they  have  always  been  ready  to  take  the 
advanced  side/  As  the  social  atmosphere  be- 
comes more  favourable,  we  can  scarcely  doubt 
that  Spanish  women  will  play  their  part  in 
directing  the  civilising  influences  of  the  twen- 
tieth century.  The  very  contrasts  which  they 
present  in  character  to  the  women  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  race,  who  have  played  so  large  a  part  in 
the  world,  can  only  render  their  activities  the 
more  valuable.  The  reckless  self-abandonment 
sometimes  shown  by  the  advanced  woman  in 
pursuit  of  impersonal  ends,  her  tendency  to 
unsex  herself  by  imitating  masculine  methods, 
are  profoundly  antagonistic  to  the  temperament 
of  the  Spanish  woman,  whose  energy  and  good 
sense  are  too  solidly  personal  to  be  easily  turned 
aside  into  artificially  masculine  lines. 

three  centuries  before,  Duna  Feliciana  Enriquez  de  Guzman,  a  remark- 
able lady  of  Seville,  who  wrote  a  dramatic  poem  and  was  an  ardent 
advocate  of  the  most  rigid  school  of  classic  poetry,  pursued  a  course  of 
study,  varied  by  love  and  adventure,  in  male  costume  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Salamanca  ;  her  life  furnished  suggestions  for  some  old  Spanish 
plays,  and  was  ultimately  the  origin  of  an  episode  in  Oil  Bias. 

^  Thus  in  1821  Pecchio  wrote  that  all  the  pretty  girls  were  Liberals 
and  in  favour  of  the  new  Constitution,  and  he  gives  a  delightful 
picture  of  one,  "a  Spanish  Corinne,"  who  is  engaged  to  a  young 
officer  and  loves  Liberty  as  she  loves  her  lover. 


IV 

THE  ART  OF  SPAIN 

Spain  is  not  a  land  of  great  painters.  That  is  a 
fact  we  sometimes  fail  to  realise  at  first.  If  we 
come  from  Italy  to  the  land  of  Velazquez  we 
perhaps  expect  to  enter  another  paradise  of 
painting,  strengthened  in  this  by  the  knowledge 
that  even  to-day  Spain  is  producing  brilliant 
artists  who  rank  high  among  European  painters. 
But  it  is  not  so.  Spain  has  never  been  a 
painter's  paradise.  Velazquez,  one  of  the  greatest 
initiators  in  art,  belonged  to  a  race  that  showed 
little  artistic  initiative,  and  the  vigorous  and 
characteristic  Spanish  painters  of  to-day  all 
come  from  enterprising  commercial  communities 
whose  enerories  have  chanced  to  overflow  into 
art.  There  has  never  been  a  time  when  Spanish 
painting  was  really  comparable  to  what,  at 
one  time  or  another,  Flemish,  Tuscan,  Venetian, 
Dutch,  and  French  painting  have  been.  The 
dominant  note  of  the  Spanish  temperament, 
even  when    Spain    was    a   great   world  -  power, 

106 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  107 

was  always  character.  Esthetic  sensibility — 
Velazquez  always  excepted — meets  us  nowhere 
in  Spanish  art.  The  inspirations  of  art  usually 
came  to  Spain  from  outside.  Keenly  alive  as 
he  was  to  the  subtlest  mysteries  of  religion,  the 
Spaniard  disdained  the  refinements  of  artistic 
delicacy ;  he  instinctively  preferred  a  vigorous, 
masculine,  realistic  grasp  of  things,  even  of 
spiritual  things.  Spain  is  not  the  land  of  great 
art  but  of  great  personalities,  and  Velazquez 
towers  as  much  above  his  fellow -painters  as 
Cervantes  above  his  fellow-novelists.^ 

Within  the  sphere  of  the  plastic  arts  the  real 
predilection  of  the  Spaniard  is  less  for  painting 
than  for  architecture  and  sculpture.  The  Spanish 
character  has  impressed  itself  on  Spanish  archi- 
tecture with  more  complete  and  overwhelming 
force  than  it  has  manifested  in  any  other  art, 
although  the  essential  ideas  of  this  architecture 

^  The  great  vogue  which  the  Spanish  school  has  always  enjoyed 
both  in  England  and  France  is  due  to  a  succession  of  circumstances. 
In  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  identified,  not  altogether  unreason- 
ably, with  the  late  Italian  schools  and  received  the  same  high  regard 
as  was  accorded  to  them.  When  the  romantic  movement  burst  forth, 
in  literature  with  Victor  Hugo  and  in  painting  with  Delacroix,  it  was 
instinctively  attracted,  and  to  some  extent  indeed  inspired,  by  Spain, 
the  last  homo  of  romance,  and  Spanish  painting  was  looked  at  with 
fresh  interest  from  another  point  of  view.  And  when,  later  on,  new 
technical  methods  of  painting  appeared  with  Manet — who  also  in- 
stinctively turned  to  Spanish  painters  and  Spanish  subjects  long 
before  he  paid  his  one  brief  visit  to  Spain — these  new  ways  of  approach- 
ing the  problems  of  light  and  colour  led  to  the  triumph  of  Velazquez, 
who  was  found  to  have  been  the  leader,  three  centuries  ago,  in  the 
most  modern  movement  of  the  con(j^uest  of  painting  over  Nature. 


108  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

have  all  been  borrowed.  In  most  countries 
architecture,  however  national  it  may  seem,  has 
expressed  the  ideals  of  a  few  choice  spirits.  We 
must  go  back  to  ancient  Rome,  almost  to  Egypt, 
to  find  a  people  who  have  affirmed  themselves 
in  building  so  emphatically  as  the  Spaniards. 
For  sculpture,  also,  the  native  taste  is  deep- 
rooted.  The  Visigoths  were  atttracted  to  sculp- 
ture. Even  the  prehistoric  Iberians  had  a 
vigorous  school  of  sculpture,  based  on  Greek 
and  Asiatic  sources  and  attaining  an  individu- 
ality of  its  own,  though  sculpture  starting  from  a 
similar  combination  is  found  in  Etruria  and  in 
Cyprus.^  The  best  of  these  Iberian  sculptures 
are  absolutely  distinctive  and  original,  though 
founded  on  combined  elements.  The  men,  says 
Professor  Pierre  Paris  of  Bordeaux,  who  has 
more  especially  studied  this  field  of  prehistoric 
art,  are  simple  and  virile,  the  women  are  dis- 
tinguished by  dignity  of  attitude  and  nobility  of 
face,  expressive  of  deep  religious  gravity.  In 
the  folds  of  their  royally  luxurious  garments 
and  in  their  hieratic  head-dresses,  in  their 
priestess -like  chastity,  they  betray  Chaldsean 
ideas  transmitted  through  Egyptian  channels  and 
with  Greek  influences  in  the  general  style.  The 
Lady  of  Elche,  the  bust  in  the  Louvre  which 
Pierre  Paris,  in  agreement  with  Peinach,  dates 

1  Engel,  Nouvelles  Archives  des  Missions  Scientijiques,  1892,  tome  iii. 
p.  180. 


THE   ART  OF   SPAIN  109 

about  440  B.C.,  is  the  supreme  type  of  primitive 
Iberian  sculpture,  a  work  that  is  very  attractive 
in  its  curious  originality  and  seems  to  have 
come  from  the  hand  of  a  sculptor  who  was  the 
fellow-countryman  of  the  captivating  Spanish 
woman  whom  he  has  immortalised.^  How 
genuinely  Spanish  the  Lady  of  Elche  is  we 
may  realise  by  the  resemblance  she  bears  to 
Velazquez's  "  Woman  with  the  Fan,"  who,  how- 
ever, has  grown  older  and  more  tired  and  is  no 
longer  beautiful. 

In  more  modern  times  none  of  the  world's 
famous  sculptors  have  been  Spaniards,  but  the 
amount  of  beautiful  or  imposing  sculpture  to  be 
found  throughout  Spain  in  churches  and  cloisters 
is  extraordinary.  Like  the  painting,  it  is  seldom 
exquisite — Spain  has  produced  no  Donatello — 
but   it   is  various,    vigorous,    romantic,    in   the 

^  "  In  her  enigmatic  face,"  Pierre  Paris  writes,  "ideal  and  yet  real, 
in  her  living  eyes,  on  her  voluptuous  lips,  on  her  passive  and  severe 
forehead,  are  summed  up  all  the  nobility  and  austerity,  the  promises 
and  the  reticences,  the  charm  and  the  mystery  of  woman.  She  is 
Oriental  by  her  luxurious  jewels  and  by  a  vague  technical  tradition 
which  the  sculptor  has  preserved  in  the  modelling  ;  she  is  Greek,  even 
Attic,  by  an  inexpressible  flower  of  genius  which  gives  to  her  the  same 
perfume  as  to  her  sisters  on  the  Acropolis ;  she  is  above  all  Spanish, 
not  only  by  the  mitre  and  the  great  wheels  that  frame  her  delicate 
head,  but  by  the  disturbing  strangeness  of  her  beauty.  She  is  indeed 
more  than  Spanish  :  she  is  Spain  itself,  Iberia  arising  still  radiant 
with  youth  from  the  tomb  in  which  she  has  been  buried  for  more  than 
twenty  centuries "  (Pierre  Paris,  Essai  sur  I'Art  et  l' Industrie  de 
I'Espagne  Primitive,  1903-4,  vol.  ii.  p.  303).  By  virtue  of  the  symbolic 
character  which  Professor  Paris  thus  eloquently  ascribes  to  her,  the 
Lady  of  Elcho  appears  at  the  front  of  the  present  volume. 


110  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

highest  degree.  The  wonderfully  preserved 
tombs  in  such  cathedrals  as  those  of  Toledo, 
Zamora,  and  Leon  can  hardly  be  matched  else- 
where for  fine  conception  and  interesting  detail. 
Spanish  wood-carving  is  not  less  fascinating  and 
is  even  more  distinctively  Spanish,  though  its 
first  inspirations  are  believed  to  have  come  from 
Flanders  or  Holland.^  This  medium  lent  itself 
happily  to  the  finely  expressive  and  realistic 
manner  of  the  Spaniard,^  and  in  this  art  he 
found  not  only  scope  for  his  fantastic  extrava- 
gance and  his  naturalism,  but  he  attained  also  a 
delicacy  and  loveliness  which  we  usually  miss  in 
Spanish  art.  Nearly  every  great  Spanish  church 
has  carved  walnut-wood  stalls  which  are  treasuries 
of  delight,  each  with  its  own  special  character. 
It  seems  to  have  been  the  freedom  and  facility 
of  wood  which  enabled  the  Spaniard,  whose  aim 
was  ever  expressiveness,  to  attain  such  success 
in  this  medium.  For  a  difierent  reason  he  was 
equally  successful  in  the  use  of  iron ;  here  ex- 
travagance   as    well    as    grotesque    realism    is 

^  Valladolid  is  specially  rich  in  these  sculptured  wooden  figures. 
"There  is,"  as  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan  truly  says  in  describing  this  aspect 
of  that  city,  "a  mingling  of  classicism  in  the  modelling  of  the  flesh 
and  draperies,  of  romanticism  in  the  expression,  of  realism  in  the 
colouring  and  details,  which  make  of  this  sculpture  in  wood  the  seal 
and  symbol  of  our  national  genius  and  our  religious  ideal." 

"^  The  naturalistic  tendencies  of  Spanish  sculpture  and  wood-carving 
have  always  been  recognised.  In  an  interesting  pamphlet  (summarised 
in  Nature,  Nov.  2,  1899,  p.  15)  Dr.  E.  S.  Fatigati  shows,  as  is  indeed 
fairly  obvious,  that  from  the  sixth  century  onwards  a  close  study  of 
plant  life  and  animal  life  is  clearly  reflected  in  Spanish  sculpture. 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  111 

inevitably  checked,  and  for  the  combination  of 
restrained  boldness  with  harmony  the  ironwork 
screens  of  Spanish  churches,  notably  at  Seville, 
Toledo,  and  Granada,  cannot  be  surpassed. 

Spanish  people,  with  their  predominantly 
serious  character  and  their  impulse  for  strong 
expression,  are  innately  dramatic.  They  have 
produced  a  long  succession  of  fine  playwrights 
and  good  actors,  continued  up  to  the  present 
day.  They  are  instinctively  dramatic  even  in 
their  gestures  and  speech.  Nowhere,  it  seems 
to  me,  is  this  more  marked  than  in  Aragon,  and 
Aragon  is  probably  the  chief  focus  of  Spanish 
sculpture.  There  can,  I  think,  be  little  doubt 
that  the  Spanish  predilection  for  sculpture — for 
the  moulding  of  wood  and  stone  and  iron — and 
the  high  level  of  accomplishment  here  reached, 
are  founded  on  impulses  which  are  also  expressed 
in  Spanish  life  and  literature.  They  are  the 
natural  artistic  outcome  of  the  predominance  of 
character  in  the  Spanish  temperament. 

The  seriously  realistic  and  dramatic  tendencies 
of  Spanish  art  may  perhaps  seem  strange  to  those 
who  couple  Spain  vaguely  with  Italy  as  "  the 
South."  Italy  we  are  accustomed  to  regard — 
not  quite  accurately,  for  among  its  greatest 
poets  Italy  produced  the  sombre  figures  of 
Lucretius  and  Dante — as  a  land  of  sunny  idle- 
ness and  facile  enjoyment,  where  lazy  and 
picturesque  peasants  bask   in   the   sun  by  the 


112  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

blue  sea,  ready  to  be  transferred  to  the  drop- 
scenes  of  theatres.  That  is  a  vision  we  must 
not  usually  expect  to  see  in  Spain,  either  in  the 
actual  Spanish  landscape  or  in  Spanish  pictures. 
It  has  indeed  often  seemed  to  me  that  the 
meteorological  effects  of  the  climate  of  Central 
Spain  have  had  not  merely  an  indirect  but  even 
a  direct  influence  on  the  most  typical  Spanish 
painters.  The  hard  and  violent  effects,  the 
sharp  contrasts,  the  strong  colours,  the  stained 
and  dusky  clouds,  looking  as  if  soaked  in  pig- 
ment, may  well  have  affected  the  imaginations 
of  the  artist,  and  a  Castilian  sunset  often  seems 
to  have  a  real  affinity  with  many  a  canvas  of 
the  most  typical  Spanish  painters.  However 
this  may  be,  we  find  in  Spain  a  more  extreme 
south  united  to  a  more  extreme  north  than  Italy 
ever  shows  us.  And  just  as  Norway  and  Africa 
meet  in  the  Spanish  climate,  and  Visigoths  and 
Moors  in  the  Spanish  people,  so  Flanders  and 
Naples  meet  in  Spanish  painting. 

The  basis  of  Spanish  painting  is  northern  and 
Flemish ;  even  Italian  influences,  it  has  been 
pointed  out,  first  reached  Spain  through  Flemish 
channels ;  the  spirit  of  Flemish  art,  its  realism, 
its  dramatic  veracity,  its  deep  and  serious  feeling, 
were  altogether  congenial  to  the  Spanish  tempera- 
ment. We  hear  of  Jan  van  Eyck  travelling  in 
the  peninsula ;  Roger  van  der  Weyden's  pictures 
were  evidently  greatly  admired,  for  we  find  some 


THE  ART   OF  SPAIN  113 

of  the  finest  in  Spain  to-day,  and  his  dramatic 
force  and  intense  religious  feeling  could  not 
fail  to  make  a  strong  appeal  to  the  Spanish 
temperament ;  Gherart  David,  who  also  has 
strong  Spanish  affinities,  may  likewise  be  seen 
in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

On  this  Flemish  basis  arose  a  long  school 
of  painters  whose  names  are  little  if  at  all 
known  ;  they  have  been  treated  with  undeserved 
neglect  by  their  fellow-countrymen,  for  while 
Flemish  in  inspiration,  they  represent  a  really 
Spanish  development  which,  if  it  had  not  been 
largely  overwhelmed  by  other  influences,  might 
have  led  to  fine  results  in  the  line  of  the  national 
genius.  The  two  chief  representatives  of  this 
movement  are  Luis  de  Dalmau  of  Barcelona  and 
Alejo  Fernandez  of  Cordova.  Dalmau's  chief 
work,  the  altar-piece  now  in  the  Museo  Municipal 
of  Barcelona,  was  painted  soon  after  the  great 
masterpiece  of  the  van  Eycks  at  Ghent,  which 
in  some  respects  it  recalls,  and  it  has  a  generally 
Flemish  character,  representing  yellow  -  haired 
and  yellow-eyed  women,  and  black-haired  men, 
as  we  often  see  them  in  Flemish  paintings ;  but 
it  remains  a  little  stiff  in  its  forcefulness,  although 
quite  a  beautiful,  harmonious,  decorative  picture. 
Fernandez,  who  painted  somewhat  later,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  is  a  much 
more  charming  and  more  individual  artist. 
His  Madonna  with  Angels  at  Triana  is  the  most 

I 


114  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

delightful  picture  the  early  Spanish  painters 
have  given  us ;  in  its  general  aspect  as  well  as 
in  much  of  its  detail  it  is  Flemish,  without  the 
Flemish  stiffness  and  indifference  to  beauty,  for 
there  is  an  almost  Italian  grace  and  ease  about 
it,  and  the  Angels  recall  Filippo  Lippi. 

But  this  orderly  development  on  a  Flemish 
basis  towards  a  Spanish  ideal  was  roughly  de- 
stroyed by  the  eruption  over  Europe  of  that  new 
kind  of  art  which  had  grown  up  in  Italy.  Early 
Spanish  art  melted  at  the  touch  of  this  powerful 
solvent  as  swiftly  as  the  early  Flemish  art  from 
which  it  sprang.  The  Italians  in  their  fine 
climate,  where  any  wall  would  do  to  paint  on, 
had  had  a  long  training,  and  their  aesthetic 
sensibility,  their  instinct  for  design,  enabled 
them  to  use  with  complete  mastery  the  methods 
of  self-expression  they  had  evolved.  But  their 
slowly  acquired  freedom  acted  as  a  swift  poison 
on  the  artists  trained  in  the  sober  and  realistic 
traditions  of  the  Flemish  school.  Freed  from 
their  bonds  to  tradition,  and  at  the  same  time 
losing  their  loving  and  reverent  devotion  to 
Nature,  they  could  not,  like  the  Tuscans,  trust 
to  their  own  happy  inspiration ;  they  became 
licentious  in  technique,  shallow  in  feeling, 
insipid  and  extravagant  in  design.  It  is  rare 
indeed  to  find  any  fine  artistic  personality 
behind  the  wildly  flowing  draperies  of  the  facile, 
superficial  canvases  of  these  painters ;  their  art 


THE  ART  OF   SPAIN  115 

interests  us  scarcely  more  than  that  of  Vasari. 
Great  as  was  the  fascination  exerted  by  the  new 
and  free  art  of  Italy,  it  seldom  so  far  inspired 
the  Spaniards  as  to  enable  them  to  work  truly  in 
its  spirit.  Here  and  there  in  sculpture  we  catch 
a  glimpse  of  that  spirit,  and  the  great  sixteenth 
century  retahlo  of  the  church  of  San  Jeronimo 
at  Granada  is  a  beautiful  and  harmonious  work 
in  the  Italian  manner,  though  without  any  obvi- 
ous imitation.  In  painting,  Eoelas  of  Seville  has 
a  sweet  and  gracious  charm  which  is  also  Italian 
rather  than  Spanish.  As  we  see  his  work  in  some 
of  the  Seville  churches,  he  combined  something 
of  the  Venetian  spirit  of  Titian  with  the  Anda- 
lusian  spirit  which  reached  its  climax  in  Murillo, 
while  yet  retaining  an  attractive  personality  of 
his  own. 

Another  artist  who  was  not  only  a  Venetian 
in  artistic  origin  but  a  foreigner  by  birth  and 
race,  Theotocopuli,  commonly  called  El  Greco, 
ranks  among  the  chief  pioneers  of  Spanish 
painting,  and  has  even  been  regarded  as  the  first 
in  time  of  the  characteristically  Spanish  masters. 
He  came  from  Venice,  and  his  early  affinities 
were  mainly  with  Tintoret.  He  was  already  an 
accomplished  Venetian  painter,  but  after  he 
had  settled  in  Toledo,  to  spend  a  long  life 
there,  he  slowly  acquired  a  new  manner  of 
his  own,  highly  individual,  even  morbidly 
eccentric,  yet  at  the  same  time  in  many  respects 


116         THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

genuinely  Spanish.  From  being  almost  com- 
pletely neglected,  of  recent  years  a  reaction  has 
set  in  towards  the  opposite  extreme,  and  by 
some  Spaniards  Greco  is  now  placed  on  nearly 
as  high  a  pinnacle  as  Velazquez.^  His  extreme 
individuality,  the  sincerity  with  which  he  followed 
his  own  mannerisms  to  the  utmost,  so  that  one 
is  inclined  to  say  that  even  the  smallest  fragment 
of  a  Greco  canvas  could  be  immediately  recognised 
as  the  work  of  the  master,  scarcely  suffices, 
however,  to  make  a  painter  of  the  first  order. 

^  In  1906,  when  it  was  reported  that  Greco's  most  famous  picture, 
the  "Burial  of  Count  Orgaz,"  was  to  be  sold  and  taken  out  of  the 
country,  there  was  a  great  outcry  in  Spain  at  this  "sacrilege  and 
profanation."  The  demand  was  made  on  this  occasion  that  all  the 
works  of  art  in  churches  and  monasteries  should  be  declared  national 
property,  or  a  law  passed,  on  the  lines  of  the  Italian  law,  though  less 
extreme,  to  keep  them  in  the  country.  Zorilla,  when  Minister  of 
Public  Works  in  the  Revolutionary  Government  of  1868,  issued  a 
decree  empowering  the  State  to  take  possession  of  collections  of  art 
and  science  belonging  to  religious  bodies,  to  prevent  them  from  being 
diverted  from  public  use  or  sold  ;  but  the  clergy  were  greatly  agitated, 
and  threatened  to  assassinate  the  officials  charged  with  the  execution 
of  the  decree,  which  was  never  carried  out.  A  serious  and  difficult 
problem  is,  indeed,  presented  by  the  immense  amount  of  priceless  and 
unique  artistic  treasures  which  are  stored  in  the  churches  throughout 
Spain.  Now  that  their  value  is  becoming  recognised,  it  is  difficult 
for  their  present  possessors  to  guard  them  adequately  even  against 
ordinary  thieves,  and  many  daring  robberies  have  taken  place  (as 
lately  from  the  Cathedral  of  Santiago  de  Compostela),  while  the 
slowly  growing  antagonism  between  the  Church  and  the  people  will 
introduce  more  risks  of  devastation,  such  as  occurred  in  England  in 
the  seventeenth  century  and  in  France  in  the  eighteenth.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Church  will  certainly  maintain  its  rights  jealously  in 
this  as  in  other  respects,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  artistic 
loss  would  be  great  if  the  treasures  of  Spanish  churches  were  to  be 
stacked  in  museums  after  the  manner  now  followed  in  most  other 
countries. 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  117 

The  reckless  and  frantic  effort  of  his  inspiration 
lacks  the  genius  which  could  alone  justify  it. 
"  His  pictures  might  at  times,"  as  Mr.  Ricketts 
says,  "  have  been  painted  by  torchlight  in  a  cell 
of  the  Inquisition."  He  is  lashed  and  tormented 
by  his  vision,  but  is  seldom  able  to  embody  it. 
Even  his  generally  acknowledged  masterpiece, 
the  "  Burial  of  Conde  Orgaz,"  at  Toledo, — 
although  comparatively  restrained,  full  of  fine 
passages  and  ideas,  and  at  the  time  of  its 
production  as  great  a  picture  as  had  ever  been 
painted  in  Spain,^ — can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
among  the  great  pictures  of  the  world.  The 
general  design  of  it — the  group  of  bending 
figures  around  the  supine  form,  and  the  super- 
natural circle  of  figures  in  the  clouds  behind — 
had  been  a  familiar  composition  among  Byzantine 
artists  centuries  before,^  as  it  remained  after- 
wards, well  illustrated  by  Zurbaran's  "  Funeral 
of  a  Bishop"  in  the  Louvre.  Powerful  and 
impressive  as  the  work  undoubtedly  is,  the 
individual  portraiture  of  the  bystanders,  and 
the  realistic  detail  of  their  costumes,  clash  with 
the  larger  religious  significance  which  the  painter 
has  sought  to  give  to  his  work ;  the  religious 

1  Justi,  usually  temperate  in  his  judgments,  declares  that  this 
picture  is  "in  his  worst  style,"  surely  a  difficult  opinion  to  maintain. 

*  See,  e.g.,  the  "  Dormition  of  the  Mother  of  God,"  a  fourteenth 
century  Byzantine  fresco  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  di  Cerrati  near 
Lecce  in  Otranto,  illustrated  in  Bertaux's  great  work,  UArt  dans 
I'ltalie  Miridionalc,  vol.  i.,  and  compare  a  pen-drawing  by  an  eleventh 
century  Benedictine  monk  on  p.  201  of  the  same  volume. 


118  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

significance  is  unachieved,  and,  on  the  othei 
hand,  the  episode  depicted  and  its  supernatural 
accompaniments  are  not  felt  to  aid  the  singularly 
fine  row  of  portrait  heads  resting  on  their  white 
rufi's  which  chiefly  draw  our  attention.  In  his 
more  purely  religious  and  supernatural  scenes, 
Greco  was  sometimes  imaginative  but  more 
often  bizarre  in  design  and  disconcerting  in  his 
colouring,  with  its  insistence  on  chalky  white, 
his  violet  shadows  on  pale  faces,  his  love  of 
green. ^  Yet  his  colouring  was  his  greatest  and 
best  discovery.  His  distorted  fever  of  move- 
ment— the  lean  twisted  bodies,  the  frenzied, 
gesticulating  arms,  the  mannerism  of  large 
calves  that  taper  down  to  pointed  toes — usually 
fails  to  convince  us.  But  in  the  audacities  of 
his  colouring  he  revealed  the  possibility  of  new 
harmonies,  of  higher,  brighter,  and  cooler  keys 
of  colour  than  had  before  been  achieved,  and 
along  these  lines  he  was  destined  to  inspire  a 
more  consummate  artist  than  himself.  Greco 
was  usually  at  his  best  in  portraiture  ;  ^  here  he 

^  The  predilection  for  green  is  interesting,  and  one  of  the  numerous 
points  in  which  Greco  anticipated  the  characteristics  of  the  Spanish 
school,  for  green  has  usually  been  prominent  on  the  Spaniard's 
palette,  and  has  remained  so — sometimes,  as  in  Fortuny's  pictures, 
becoming  very  insistent. 

^  In  an  interesting  study  of  Greco  ("A  Study  of  Toledo,"  Monthly 
Review,  March  1901)  Mr.  Arthur  Symons  has  finely  characterised  these 
portraits,  in  which  "  there  is  a  certain  subdued  ecstasy,  purely  ascetic, 
and  purely  temperamental  in  its  asceticism,  as  of  a  fine  Toledo  blade, 
wearing  out  its  scabbard  through  the  mere  sharpness  of  inaction  .... 
Their  faces  are  all  nerves,  distinguished  nerves,  quieted  by  an  effort,  the 


THE  ART  OF   SPAIN  119 

reached  a  high  degree  of  distinction,  refining  on 
the  methods  of  Tintoret,  bringing  out  the  charm 
of  his  women  sitters  and  the  aristocratic  qualities 
of  his  men,  imparting  to  them  something  of  that 
consuming  febrile  and  neurotic  energy  which  is 
the  special  characteristic  of  his  own  art  and 
doubtless  his  own  personality  —  possibly  the 
source  of  the  legend  of  his  madness — while  it 
sorts  so  well  with  the  city  of  his  adoption.  This 
haughty  and  aristocratic  quality  in  Greco — a 
Spanish  quality  again,  though  most  Spanish 
painters  revealed  in  their  art  their  often  plebeian 
origin — led  him  to  follow  out  his  own  aims  in 
disdain  of  the  art  around  him,  and  together  with 
certain  qualities  in  his  colouring  it  may  have 
been  an  inspiration  to  Velazquez,  who  seems  to 
have  learnt  from  Greco,  although  his  sane  and 
solid  genius  instinctively  rejected  the  bizarre 
elements  in  his  predecessor's  work.  Carrying 
his  own  individuality  to  the  utmost  limits,  Greco 
was  a  real  liberating  force  in  Spanish  art. 

For  the  most  part,  as  we  have  seen,  the  hard, 
deep -feeling,  individualistic,  sometimes  rather 
violent  temper  of  the  Spaniard  could  not  be 
conciliated  with  the  spirit  of  Italy.  But  at  last 
a  really  fertile  seed  from  Italy  was  scattered 
on   Spanish    soil.      It  was  altogether   of  novel 

faces  of  dreamers  in  action  ;  they  have  all  the  brooding  Spanish  soul 
with  its  proud  self-repression."  The  general  characters  of  Greco's 
art  are  discriminatingly  set  forth  by  Mr.  Ricketts  in  his  book  on 
The  Prculo  (pp.  23-31). 


120  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

character,  and  it  came  from  the  south  of  the 
Italian  peninsula,  a  region  allied  to  Spain,  for 
Naples  and  Sicily,  unlike  Northern  Italy,  are 
African  in  their  affinities ;  they  were,  moreover, 
for  a  long  time  under  Moorish  influence,  and 
they  had  subsequently  become  part  of  the  great 
domain  of  Spain.  ^ 

The  rough,  stern,  realistic  art  of  Naples, 
veracious  and  dramatic,  but  revealing  little 
delicacy  of  aesthetic  sensibility  —  mainly  em- 
bodied for  us  in  the  work  of  Caravaggio  and 
Salvator  Rosa — was  a  vigorous  revolt  against 
the  shallow  and  feeble  forms  of  later  North 
Italian  art,  and  the  insipidities  and  inanities 
into  which  that  had  at  length  fallen.^  But  it 
is  necessary  to  remember  that  the  Neapolitan 
school  was  only  in  a  very  slight  degree  made  up 
of  South  Italians ;  nearly  all  its  leaders  reached 
Naples  from  elsewhere.  It  must  also  be  re- 
marked that  the  Valencian  school  of  Spain  was 
developing  out  of  the  Bolognese  school  along 
the  same  lines  as  the  Neapolitan  school,  and  the 
Valencian  Ribalta — with  his  strong  lighting  and 
vigorous  modelling — was  the  master  of  Ribera. 

^  "And  truly  in  my  opinion,"  wrote  Howell  from  Naples  in  1621, 
"the  King  of  Spain's  greatness  appears  here  more  eminently  than  in 
Spain  itself." 

2  This  tendency  was  not,  however,  of  late  appearance.  The  mosaics 
of  Southern  Italy  (as  illustrated  in  the  first  volume  of  Bertaux's 
L'Art  dans  Vltalie  Meridionah),  unlike  those  of  Byzantine  art 
generally,  are  often  singularly  vigorous  and  dramatic,  with  figures 
in  high  relief  on  a  dark  background. 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  121 

The  decisive  factor,  moreover,  in  concentrating 
the  realistic  revolt  of  late  Italian  art  in  Naples 
seems  to  have  been  the  fact  that  Naples  had 
then  long  been  under  Spanish  rule,  and  that  to 
the  Spaniards  this  kind  of  art  was  as  congenial 
as  it  was  alien  to  Italians  generally.  The 
Neapolitan  painters  were  thus  in  a  double  sense 
a  branch  of  the  Spanish  school.  In  this  way  it 
came  about  that  Kibera  the  Valencian — Lo 
Spagnoletto,  as  he  was  called  in  Italy — a  leader 
of  Neapolitan  art,  was  not  only  born  in  Spain,^ 
but  is  rightly  counted  as  in  every  sense  one  of 
the  glories  of  Spanish  art. 

Kibera's  best  works  are  scattered, — though  a 
special  room  is  now  devoted  to  him  in  the  Prado, 
— but  any  one  who  has  been  able  to  obtain  a 
comprehensive  vision  of  them  as  a  whole  can 
scarcely  fail  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  after 
Velazquez  there  is  no  greater  figure  in  Spanish 
art.  It  may  be  admitted  that  Pibera  is  very 
unequal,  and  that  in  facile  and  obvious  charm 
he  is  not  usually  conspicuous.  It  is  possible  to 
turn  away  from  many  of  his  pictures  with  the 

^  As  Salazar  has  finally  proved  ("La  Patria  e  la  Famiglia  dello 
Spagnoletto,"  Atti  del  Congresso  Iniernazionale  di  Scienze  Sloriche, 
1903,  vol.  vii.  sezione  iv.),  Ribera  was  born  at  Jativa  in  Valencia,  of 
Spanish  parents,  although  the  family  shortly  afterwards  migrated  to 
Naples,  where  the  painter  married  an  Italian  wife  and  eventually 
died,  probably  at  Posilippo,  in  1652.  Jativa,  a  fortress  amid  a 
paradise  of  flowers  and  fruit,  was  also  the  home  of  the  Borgias,  and 
at  one  time  a  stronghold  of  Valencian  revolt ;  it  is  still  a  centre  of 
Anarchism. 


122  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

feeling  that  they  are  sombre,  harsh,  violent,  if 
not  indeed  sometimes  brutal.  We  have  to  re- 
member that  he  came  first,  and  that  Velazquez 
followed  him,  while  Murillo  began  by  being 
frankly  his  imitator.  The  profound  originality 
of  Eibera  is  shown  by  the  complete  manner 
in  which,  though  seemingly  inspired  by  foreign 
influences,  he  expresses  and  works  out  the 
genius  of  his  own  people.  The  qualities  of 
Spain,  as  we  know,  are  the  qualities  of  char- 
acter. The  art  of  Ribera  is  the  manifestation 
of  this  temper,  earnest,  profoundly  emotional, 
almost  exclusively  religious,  yet  nearly  always 
realistic,  and  invariably  dramatic.  So  dramatic 
is  he,  and  so  anxious  to  expend  all  the  resources 
of  his  art  in  bringing  his  figures  into  the 
strongest  relief,  that  we  might  regard  him  as 
really,  by  instinct,  a  sculptor.  He  was  born  on 
the  confines  of  Aragon,  a  centre  of  sculpture, 
the  most  national  of  the  plastic  arts  of  Spain, 
and  no  other  Spanish  painter  has  so  persistently 
conceived  the  scene  before  him  from  the  sculp- 
tor's point  of  view,  that  is  to  say,  as  sculpture 
has  been  understood  by  the  dramatic  and 
realistic  Spaniard,  like  Montanes,  who  designed 
some  of  those  noble  and  poignantly  life-like 
images  which  are  still  borne  in  procession  at 
Seville  in  Holy  Week.  The  robust  vigour  of 
Ribera's  art  is  compensated  and  completed  by 
his    essential    tenderness.       In    the    power    of 


THE  ART  OF   SPAIN  123 

rendering  loving  devotion,  of  tender  abandon- 
ment, associated  with  religious  emotion,  Ribera 
not  only  surpasses  all  his  countrymen,  but  is 
scarcely  excelled  outside  Spain.  His  Magdalene 
in  the  Prado  caressing  a  skull  succeeds  in 
imparting  the  simple  sincerity  of  true  feeling 
to  a  stereotyped  scene  which  the  painter  has 
usually  found  it  very  difficult  to  realise  con- 
vincingly. In  the  National  Gallery  "  Entomb- 
ment" the  attitude  of  the  stooping  St.  John  at 
the  Saviour's  feet,  with  bowed  head  covered  by  a 
waving  wealth  of  golden  hair,  is  singularly  char- 
acteristic of  Ribera ;  and  not  less  so,  in  a  well- 
known  picture  in  the  Louvre,  the  dead  Christ, 
whose  mass  of  brown-black  hair  mingles  with 
shadows  of  the  same  tint.  In  such  pictures  we 
see  those  sombre  and  deep  tones  of  emotional 
colour,  the  rich  dusky  harmonies  which  have  so 
often  haunted  Spanish  artists  down  to  Gandara 
and  Zuloaga,  but  have  never  been  so  strongly 
and  splendidly  achieved  as  by  Ribera.  He 
remains  the  most  superb  and  original  colourist 
of  Spain,  a  strayed  Venetian  whose  emotional 
tone  is  yet  entirely  Spanish.  The  crowning 
proof  of  Ribera's  artistic  strength  and  his  power 
of  rendering  ecstatic  emotion  is  furnished  by  the 
great  "  Conception  "  which  hangs  over  the  high 
altar  in  the  Church  of  the  Augustinas  Recoletas 
in  Salamanca.  The  fine  blending  of  modesty 
and  pride  in  the  Virgin's  face  and  erect  figure 


124  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

is  here  triumpliantly  attained ;  in  one  effort 
Ribera  has  not  merely  succeeded  where  Murillo 
after  him  so  often  lavished  his  labour  in  vain, 
but  he  challenges  comparison  with  Titian.^ 

It  was  not  merely  in  painting  ecstatic  Virgins 
in  the  clouds  that  Murillo  sought  to  follow 
Ribera.  In  much  of  his  early  work  he  moulded 
himself  on  Ribera  at  every  point.  Before  an 
"Adoration  of  the  Shepherds  "  in  the  Murillo  room 
at  the  Prado  it  is  difficult  to  realise  that  we  are 
not  in  the  presence  of  a  characteristic  work  of 
the  earlier  master ;  there  is  the  same  colouring, 
the  same  realism,  the  same  type  of  Virgin's  face ; 
even  the  angel  who  seems  so  characteristic  of 
Murillo  we  find  fully  developed  in  the  white- 
winged  angel,  robed  in  golden  brown  and  purple, 
of  the  "  San  Pedro  in  vinculis"  of  the  Ribera  room. 
Murillo,  it  is  true,  left  out  the  occasional  brutal 
crudity  of  Ribera,  but  he  also  left  out  his  force 
and  sincerity  and  dramatic  veracity. 

The  supremacy  of  Velazquez — whose  early 
work  also  exhibits,  though  in  a  less  definite 
degree,  the  influence  of  Ribera — among  the 
painters  of  Spain  is  to-day  unquestioned,  nor  is 
there  much  question  that  among  the  artists  of 
the  world  he  stands  in  the  first  rank,  in  certain 

^  Ribera  was  often  singularly  happy,  far  beyond  any  other  Spanish 
painter,  in  the  difficult  task  of  combining  nobility  with  fresh  human 
sweetness  in  his  Virgins.  This  is,  for  instance,  well  illustrated  in 
the  delightful  "Holy  Family  "  which  is  the  most  interesting  picture  in 
the  little  visited  Museo  Provincial  at  Toledo. 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  125 

respects,  indeed,  unsurpassed  and  unsurpassable. 
But  Murillo,  once  counted  as  more  than  the 
peer  of  Velazquez,  has  fallen  from  his  high  estate 
in  critical  estimation,  though  his  popularity 
among  the  masses,  in  and  out  of  Spain,  remains 
unaffected  by  the  discussions  of  critics.  His  real 
position,  we  shall  probably  not  err  in  concluding, 
is  neither  so  high  nor  so  low  as  opposing  factions 
have  placed  it,  and  we  may  agree  with  those  who 
would  rank  him  not  far  from  Andrea  del  Sarto. 
He  has  suffered  from  his  popularity  and  from  the 
critical  reaction  aroused  by  that  popularity.  But 
as  in  the  case  of  his  in  many  respects  greater 
contemporary  Vandyke,  we  must  allow  due 
weight  to  real  charm  and  genuine  accomplish- 
ment, however  much  we  may  be  affected  by  the 
absence  of  those  qualities  which  are  essential  to 
the  making  of  the  greatest  art.  Murillo  was 
lacking  in  original  force  :  the  methods,  the  aims, 
even  the  favourite  designs,  of  the  first  period  of 
his  art  were,  as  we  see,  largely  impressed  on  him 
by  the  puissant  genius  of  Ribera  ;  and  the  modi- 
fications which  his  style  underwent  later  in  life, 
while  doubtless  more  peculiarly  personal,  were  of 
no  great  artistic  significance.  He  was  an  artist 
of  feminine  and  receptive  temperament,  a  realist 
indeed,  but  with  no  virile  force,  inapt  to  express 
the  vigorous  dramatic  qualities  which  most 
natively  find  expression  in  Spanish  art.  But  his 
hand   was   highly   accomplished   and   his   taste 


126  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

showed  a  finer  sensibility  than  is  common  in 
Spain ;  he  was  sensitive  to  beauty,  especially  to 
the  idyllic  beauty  of  homely  landscape  scenes 
(though    he   was    here    largely   a    follower    of 
Bassano),  and  to  the  plebeian  charm  of  the  Spanish 
peasant.     His  quick  eye  and  ready  hand  were 
forced  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  needs  of  a  city 
in  which  beauty  was  dedicated  almost  altogether 
to  the  service  of  religion.     That  circumstance, 
though  it  led  to  the  production  of  pictures  which 
made  Murillo's  fame,  has  yet  been  unfortunate 
for  his  reputation  in  the  highest  sense.     Of  all 
Spanish   painters,    Murillo   alone,    the    genuine 
child  of  Andalusia,  may  be  said  to  represent  the 
spirit  of  what  we  term  the  "  South."     For  that 
very  reason,  perhaps,  he  was  not  so  typically  and 
essentially    Spanish   as    Ribera   was.      He   was 
without  the  Spanish  dramatic  aptitude,  without 
the  sincerity  of  intense  religious  feeling.  Murillo's 
famous  Virgins  in  the  clouds,  after  the  manner  of 
Ribera's  great  Salamanca  "  Conception,"  however 
delicious  the  glowing  haze  in  which  they  live, 
are  nearly  always  pretty  peasant  girls,  posing  in 
beautiful  robes  that  do  not  belong  to  them,  and 
simulating  ecstatic  emotions  they  have  never  felt. 
His  other  religious  pictures  are  similarly  gracious 
and  charming,  similarly  unconvincing.      When 
we  can  forget  that  we  are  looking  at  a  religious 
picture,  or  when  the  painter  was  free  to  devote 
himself  to  frankly  secular  subjects,  we  can  better 


THE  ART  OF  SPAIN  127 

enjoy  the  qualities  of  his  art.  It  is  true  that  his 
beggar-boys  are  just  as  deliberately  and  self- 
consciously picturesque  as  his  saints  are  de- 
liberately and  self-consciously  holy.  Still,  no 
other  Spanish  painter  has  so  agreeably  seized  the 
peasant  life  of  Spain,  or  rather  of  Andalusia,  at 
the  points  where  it  fell  in  harmoniously  with 
his  own  pretty  mannerisms ;  in  this  field,  indeed, 
he  sometimes  seems  both  sensitive  and  sincere, 
able  to  present  life  for  what  it  is  worth.  Even 
the  absence  of  dramatic  instinct  helped  him  here. 
His  love  of  beauty  and  refinement,  especially 
when  manifested  in  a  plebeian  shape,  his  idyllic 
feeling  for  the  beauty  of  pastoral  repose  in  a 
patriarchal  age, — illustrated  by  many  of  the 
pictures  at  the  Hermitage  in  St.  Petersburg, — his 
softly  bright  and  luminous  colouring,  his  facile 
skiU  in  realistic  detail — all  these  things  must 
make  Murillo  a  fascinating  and  peculiar  figure  in 
Spanish  painting,  though  they  cannot  enable  us 
to  place  him  beside  Velazquez  and  Pibera. 

His  proper  rank  is  more  nearly  with  Zurbaran, 
unlike  as  in  many  respects  the  two  artists  are — 
Murillo,  who  came  somewhat  later,  the  more 
skilled  and  versatile  master  of  his  art ;  Zurbaran, 
a  more  natively  dramatic  realist,  and  with  a  far 
more  sincere  and  profound  religious  instinct,  the 
finest  type  of  the  realist  as  religious  visionary.^ 

^  The  significance  and  importance  of  Zi;rbaran   liave   only  been 
realised  during  recent  3^  ears.      The  comprehensive  exhibition  of  his 


128  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

But  they  were  alike  in  their  refinement  of 
nature,  the  delicacy  of  their  realism,  their 
genuine  love  of  plebeian  human  nature,  Zurbaran 
always  remaining  more  direct  in  his  vision,  more 
unaffected  in  his  execution,  a  man  of  very  humble 
soul,  perhaps  too  humble  for  a  great  artist,  con- 
tent to  be  on  the  earth,  and  by  preference  in  a 
cloister,  never  eager  to  climb,  as  Murillo  was, 
on  to  a  cloud. 

Zurbaran  was  a  native  of  Estremadura,  the 
province  that  lies  between  Castile  on  the  north 
and  Andalusia  on  the  south,  and  this  position 
seems  accurately  to  account  for  his  spiritual 
attitude.  He  had  much  of  the  Andalusian 
sweetness  and  cheerful  contentment,  but  at  the 
same  time  in  his  dramatic  vigour,  his  intense 
fervour,  his  genuine  preoccupation  with  religion, 
he  was  intimately  related  to  Castile.  Technically, 
his  pictures  are  often  uninteresting  because  he 

works  in  Madrid  during  1905  (which  I  was  unfortunately  unable  to 
see,,  although  in  Spain  at  the  time)  has  largely  contributed  to  this 
recognition.  Lord  Leigh  ton,  however,  a  very  well-informed  and  often 
judicious  critic  of  Spanish  painting,  wrote  with  enthusiasm  nearly 
twenty  years  ago  of  Zurbaran,  as  "a  man  of  whom  we  have  in  this 
country  but  little  knowledge,  a  painter  of  conspicuously  powerful 
personality,  in  whom  more  than  in  any  of  his  contemporaries  the 
various  essential  characteristics  of  his  race  were  gathered  up — its 
defiant  temper,  its  domestic  bent,  its  indifference  to  beauty,  its  love  of 
fact,  its  imaginative  force,  its  gloomy  fervour,  its  poetry,  in  fact,  and 
its  prose.  Murillo  was  truly  Spanish,  no  doubt,  but  had  neither  the 
imagination  nor  the  sustained  virility  of  style  of  the  son  of  the 
peasant  from  Estremadura,  the  completest  representative  in  art,  I 
think,  of  the  genius  of  his  race."  There  is,  however,  much  in  this 
eloquent  estimate  which  seems  more  accurately  applicable  to  Ribera. 


THE  ART   OF   SPAIN  129 

is  nearly  always  dominated  by  the  instinct  to 
convey  his  religious  feelings  and  ideas  as  simply 
and  sincerely  as  he  can.  Murillo  was  a  religious 
painter,  because  the  age  would  not  allow  him  to 
be  anything  else.  But  Zurbaran  was  entirely  in 
harmony  with  the  religious  spirit  of  his  age.  He 
is  a  Spanish  Fra  Angelico,  that  is  to  say,  a  very 
realistic  Angelico,  whose  knees  rest  always  firmly 
on  the  earth. 

The  great  period  of  Spanish  painting  was 
comprised  within  the  first  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  It  died  even  more  completely 
and  suddenly  than  the  contemporaneous  efflor- 
escence of  Spanish  drama,  and  almost  at  the 
same  time.  The  life  of  Velazquez  ended  in  1660, 
and  that  of  Calderon,  who  outlived  most  of  his 
fellow  -  dramatists,  in  1681.  The  ancient  and 
vigorous  school  of  Venice,  with  which  the 
Spaniards  had  so  often  come  in  touch,  con- 
tinued within  narrowed  channels  alive  and  alert, 
retaining  its  aptitude  for  new  developments, 
and  in  Guardi  at  all  events  stretching  forwards 
towards  modern  art,  but  Spanish  art  had  lost 
all  vitality.  Not  one  notable  figure  emerges 
until  we  reach  Goya  towards  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  In  this  man  of  Aragon, 
the  son  of  poor  labourers,  and  showing  in  his 
portrait  the  very  type  of  the  shrewd  and  keen 
Aragonese  peasant,  we  have  a  genuine  and  ener- 
getic renascence   of  the   Spanish   spirit   in   art. 

K 


130  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

He  shows,  indeed,  some  suggestions  of  French 
influence ;  for,  with  fundamental  diff"ereuces,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  feel  now  and  again  in  his  work 
the  hardness  and  pseudo-classicality  of  David, 
while  we  miss  also  the  substantial  solidity  of 
the  old  masters  and  their  aristocratic  instinct. 
But,  on  the  whole,  with  his  versatile  aptitudes 
and  wide-reaching  interests,  Goya  represents  the 
Spanish  temper  and  Spanish  interests  more  com- 
prehensively than  any  other  Spanish  painter. 
He  has  finally  escaped  from  the  control  of  the 
Inquisition,  which  fettered  his  predecessors,  and  is 
a  little  intoxicated  with  his  freedom.  Religion, 
the  prime  interest  of  Old  Spain,  is  a  negligible 
element  in  his  art.  It  is,  indeed,  a  fact  of  some 
significance  in  estimating  the  spiritual  outlook 
of  Spain,  that  since  Zurbaran  there  has  been  no 
great  Spanish  religious  painter.  Goya  touched 
Spanish  life  vividly  and  alertly  on  every  other 
side ;  he  has  all  the  fantastic  energy  of  Spain, 
some  of  his  pictures  are  like  pungent  political 
pamphlets,  he  illustrated  fully  all  the  aspects 
of  Spanish  popular  and  festive  life,  technically 
in  a  versatile  and  experimental  way  which  is 
always  interesting,  though,  except  in  a  few 
occasional  sketches  and  etchings,  it  seldom 
reaches  consummate  achievement.  Some  of  his 
drawings,  in  their  superb  dash  and  felicity,  are 
almost  comparable  to  Rubens's  sketches,  though 
a^ain,  in  the  Capriclios  and  other  etchings,  their 


THE  ART  OF   SPAIN  131 

beauty  and  spirit,  their  vigour  of  line  and  ex- 
pression, tend  often  to  fall  into  caricature.  And 
in  his  personal  life  he  exhibited  just  the  same 
versatile  and  audacious  temper,  ready  with  his 
sword,  competent  to  play  his  part  in  the  bull- 
ring, at  one  time  abducting  a  nun  from  her 
convent,  at  another  time  carrying  on  a  public 
liaison  with  a  duchess  of  the  Court,  and  painting 
her  (according  to  an  unproved  tradition)  in  his 
"  Maja  Desnuda,"  as  Manet  afterwards  painted 
the  less  distinguished  "Olympia"  of  the  Louvre. 
And  while  he  was  at  heart  and  in  life  a  typical 
Spaniard,  Goya  was  also  a  nervous  and  restless 
modern,  indeed  with  some  claim  to  be  accounted 
the  earliest  of  modern  painters. 

Goya  marked,  however,  a  real  revival  in 
Spanish  painting,  which  has  continued  to  the 
present  time,  although,  with  the  possible  ex- 
ception of  Zuloaga,  it  has  not  produced  any 
figure  of  the  first  rank.  For  the  most  part  the 
Spanish  painters  have  allied  themselves  with 
those  of  France  and  have  sought  training  and 
fame  in  Paris.  Such  an  approximation  was 
natural  and  inevitable,  even  apart  from  the 
unique  reputation  which  Paris  has  long  enjoyed 
as  an  art  centre.  France  has  been  the  last  of 
the  great  European  countries  to  attain  serious 
and  deliberate  self-consciousness  in  painting,  and 
ever  since  that  development  has  taken  place  the 
French  painters  of  the  south-west  have  frequently 


132  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

shown  cliaracteristics  of  colouring  and  design 
which  recall  the  Spaniards.  The  influence  of 
France  has  not,  however,  destroyed  the  specifi- 
cally national  qualities  of  Spanish  painters,  not 
even  when  they  chanced  to  be  born  on  French 
soil.  Thus  Diaz,  who  played  a  prominent  part 
in  the  French  romantic  movement,  remained 
Spanish  in  the  large  and  masculine  efi"ects  of 
his  best  work,  and  in  the  peculiar  suppressed 
richness  of  passionate  colour  which  we  may 
sometimes  note  in  the  painters  of  Spain. 

At  the  present  day  nearly  all  the  Spanish 
painters  of  repute,  unlike  their  ancient  pre- 
decessors, are  either  Basques  or,  more  especially, 
Catalans  ;  belonging,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  Spanish 
populations  which  in  other  fields  also  are  most 
energetic  and  successful.  The  chief  representa- 
tive of  the  Basques  is  Zuloaga,  to-day  the  most 
distinguished  of  Spanish  painters,  the  most 
brilliant  exponent  of  the  finest  Spanish  tra- 
ditions ;  while  first  among  the  Catalans  comes 
Angiada-Camarasa,  a  great  master  of  luxuriant 
and  yet  refined  colour,  the  Spanish  violence 
tempered  harmoniously  by  Spanish  sobriety. 
Sorolla,  another  artist  of  European  reputation, 
belonging  to  Valencia,  is  also  truly  Spanish, 
a  master  of  broad  and  energetic  efi'ects.  The 
Luxembourg  possesses  a  choice  collection  of 
modern  Spanish  paintings,  and  in  the  Paris 
Salons    there    is   always    much    Spanish   work, 


THE  ART  OF   SPAIN  133 

clearly  characteristic,  and  mostly  with  that  bold 
and  ostentatious  brush-work,  once  the  method 
of  Velazquez  and  after  of  Hals,  which  has  since 
become  a  fashionable  acquirement  rather  than 
the  inevitable  outcome  of  any  psychological 
necessity.  In  its  origin,  however,  it  seems  the 
expression  in  painting  of  a  combative  and  war- 
like temperament,  the  transformation  into  art  of 
valour,  that  fundamental  quality  of  the  Spaniard, 
80  that  before  it  one  may  feel  as  Brantome  felt 
when  he  saw  the  Spaniards  riding  to  the  wars 
in  Flanders,  like  princes  in  their  arrogant  and 
insolent  grace. 


V 

VELAZQUEZ 


In  a  little  room  of  the  Prado  Museum,  specially 
constructed  for  this  end,  stands  the  large  picture 
of  Velazquez's  last  period  which  has  long  been 
known  as  "The  Maids  of  Honour,"  Las  Meninas. 
It  is  a  simple  scene  in  the  artist's  studio,  viewed 
as  the  King  and  Queen,  who  stood  at  the  same 
point  as  the  spectator  now  stands — we  see  them 
reflected  in  the  mirror  in  the  background — once 
viewed  it  during  a  moment  of  rest  in  the  course 
of  a  royal  sitting.  There  in  the  centre  is  the 
little  princess  about  to  accept  the  refreshment 
offered  by  one  of  the  charming  maids  of  honour  ; 
there  are  the  two  court  dwarfs  with  the  big  dog 
who  is  stolidly  reposing ;  and  there,  on  the  left, 
is  the  painter  himself,  erect,  with  his  large  canvas, 
facing  us  and  the  royal  couple.  A  typically 
Spanish  picture,  indeed  the  most  instructive 
representation   we   possess   of  the   life   led   by 

134 


VELAZQUEZ  185 

Philip  I  v.,  it  is  a  natural,  unstudied  scene,  painted 
in  a  natural,  unstudied  way,  with  large,  light, 
seemingly  careless  strokes,  yet  with  no  parade 
of  assertive  brush-work,  so  that  at  a  little  dis- 
tance the  picture  presents  a  smooth  surface. 
Gently,  calmly,  neither  as  master  nor  as  slave, 
but  courteously  in  the  Spanish  manner,  as  an 
equal,  the  painter  seems  to  stand  face  to  face 
with  Nature.  We  feel  that  this  is  less  a  picture 
that  has  been  painted  by  a  brilliant  and  deliberate 
expenditure  of  pigments  than  a  vision  that  has 
been  mysteriously  evoked  and  that  floats  before 
us  in  its  own  atmosphere.  If  by  a  "  miracle  " 
we  mean  an  event  in  which  the  effect  is  beyond 
measure  out  of  proportion  with  the  seeming 
simplicity  of  the  cause,  then  we  may  say  that  of 
all  the  great  pictures  of  the  world  this  may  most 
precisely  be  called  miraculous. 

Whether  the  men  of  Velazquez's  day  realised 
that  a  miracle  had  here  been  performed  there  is 
no  evidence  to  tell ;  more  likely  they  considered 
that  the  excellent  Court  painter  had  properly 
done  his  duty,  as  every  Court  functionary, 
whether  painter,  barber,  or  buffoon — they  were 
officially  classed  together  —  ought  to.  The 
earliest  known  utterance  concerning  the  picture 
is  indeed  one  that  finely  reveals  a  sense  of  its 
greatness,  but  it  was  made  thirty  years  after 
Velazquez's  death,  and  by  a  foreigner.  When 
Luca  Giordano  came  to  jMadrid — an  accomplished 


136  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

painter,  but  a  man  of  a  sensitive  and  receptive 
temperament  whicli  was  a  fatal  endowment  in 
an  age  of  artistic  decay — it  is  recorded  that  lie 
said  to  Charles  11. :  "  Sire,  this  is  the  theology 
of    painting ! "      But   it   is   an   utterance   that 
stands  alone.     At  that  time,  and  for  long  after- 
wards, Velazquez  had  no  real  and  deep  influence 
on  art  and  artists.     Frans  Hals,  indeed,  in  the 
land  that  politically  had   shaken  itself  free  of 
Spain,  while  always  possessing  something  of  the 
Spaniard's  fiercely  independent  spirit,  had  illus- 
trated the  technical  tendency  of  the  painter's 
craft  along  certain  lines  to  follow  spontaneously 
the  evolution  revealed  in  Velazquez's  work  while 
still  almost   his    contemporary.     There   we   see 
something  of  the  same  qualities  of  brush-work 
without  the  greater  qualities  of  Velazquez,  and 
in  the  wonderful  pictures  of  the  Stadthuis  in 
Haarlem,  painted  at  the  age  of  ninety,  the  final 
development  of  his  art,  Hals  at  last  reaches  up 
towards  Velazquez.      The   painter,    we   feel,   is 
physically  aged  and  frail,  his  colouring  is  often 
decomposed,  here  and  there  we  are  only  conscious 
of  strange  masses  of  pigment,  but  his  intellect  is 
still    sturdy    and    clear;    the    old   man's    hand 
trembles,  but  his  vision  has  become,  at  last,  as 
the  vision  of  Velazquez.     Hals  stands  alone  as 
Velazquez  stands  alone. 

To-day,    when   we    see   that    every    modern 
movement  in  painting  has  been  to  some  extent 


VELAZQUEZ  137 

forestalled  by  Velazquez,  when  such  great  and 
diverse  initiators  as  Corot  and  Manet,  whose 
originality  cannot  be  contested,  may  alike  be 
said  to  have  conscious  or  unconscious  points  of 
departure  here,  it  is  difficult  to  realise  that  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  when  Eaphael  Mengs 
revealed  him  to  Europe,  a  hundred  years  after 
his  death,  as  "  the  first  of  naturalists,"  Velazquez 
still  seemed  without  significance.  Reynolds,  it 
is  true,  admired  a  picture  of  Velazquez's ;  it  is 
said  that  he  pronounced  the  portrait  of  Inno- 
cent X.  "  the  finest  picture  in  Rome  "  ;  he  copied 
it ;  he  also  copied  one  other  picture  in  Rome, 
Gruido's  "  St.  Michael."  I  do  not  think  there  is 
a  single  reference  to  Velazquez  either  in  his 
Discourses  or  his  Notes  of  Travel ;  he  probably 
regarded  the  Spaniard  as  a  brilliant  outside 
member  of  the  Venetian  school,  not  worth  any 
special  separate  characterisation.  Wilkie,  in 
1828,  rediscovered  Velazquez  (but  only  appre- 
ciated his  earlier  work),  and  twenty  years  later 
Sir  William  Stirling  -  Maxwell  wrote  the  first 
notable  biography  of  the  artist.^  Half  a  century 
later,  in  1899,  the  third  centenary  of  Velazquez's 
birth,  henceforth  become  alike  a  national  and 
an  international  festival,  was  celebrated  by  the 
construction  of  a  new  hall  in  the  Prado  for  the 

^  In  later  years  R.  A.  M.  Stevenson's  fresh,  charming,  and  finely 
appreciative  little  study  of  Velazquez  (1895)  has  probably  done 
much  to  make  the  painter  popular  and  intelligible  in  England. 


138  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

reception  of  his  chief  pictures,  and  within  it,  this 
special  shrine  for  "  Las  Meninas,"  now  for  the 
first  time  clearly  to  be  seen. 

Here,  as  of  old  to  the  shrine  of  Spain's  patron 
saint  at  Compostela,  a  ceaseless  stream  of 
pilgrims  nowadays  arrives  from  all  parts  of 
the  world.  The  artists  in  every  field  come  here, 
with  the  mob  which  blindly  follows  their  lead. 
Here,  on  the  one  hand,  might  once  be  seen  the 
great  actress,  Eleanora  Duse,  spending  hours, 
day  after  day,  during  the  time  she  was  playing 
in  Madrid,  before  "  Las  Meninas,"  and  on  her  last 
visit,  the  longest  of  all,  suddenly  walking  up  to 
a  bewildered  attendant  to  exclaim,  before  she 
almost  ran  out  of  the  long  gallery,  "  Eso  es  un 
teatro  real ! "  And  here  also,  on  the  other  hand, 
may  be  seen  the  American  tourists  who  are 
driven  up  to  the  door  in  flocks,  and  march 
rapidly  through  the  Prado  in  the  track  of  a 
guide  who  hastily  names  the  masterpieces  in 
broken  English.  The  tramp  of  their  weary 
globe-trotting  feet  echoes  afar,  and  once  as  they 
pass  two  ladies  for  a  moment  sink  down  on  the 
bench  before  one  of  the  greatest  and  loveliest  of 
these  masterpieces,  "Las  Hilanderas."  "How 
interesting  it  all  is ! "  exclaims  one  lady  with 
seeming  efi'usion  to  the  other,  who  hastens  to 
agree.  "  But,"  rejoins  the  first  lady — seriously, 
evidently  coming  to  the  point — "  do  you  like 
it  ? "     And   then  they  rise  to  follow  the  loud 


VELAZQUEZ  139 

metallic  voice  of  the  guide  already  receding  into 
the  distance.  That  is  what  fame  is.  The  artists 
and  the  mob  alike,  in  their  own  different  ways, 
bear  witness  to  Velazquez's  fame. 


n 

Like  Cervantes  and  the  other  great  figures  of 
a  land  which  has  ever  been  noted  for  strength 
of  character,  for  individuality,  for  the  fine  play 
of  spontaneous  energy,  Velazquez  stands  alone, 
almost  outside  tradition,  comparatively  unrelated 
to  his  predecessors,  teachers,  and  fellows.  Still, 
no  artist,  however  aboriginal  his  impulses  may 
be,  can  stand  altogether  free  from  the  influences 
of  environment  and  tradition.  Velazquez,  re- 
sistant as  he  was  to  even  the  most  seductive 
alien  influence,  was  sensitively  alive  to  every- 
thing that  could  aid  his  own  proper  development. 

We  must  always  remember  that  Velazquez 
belonged  to  Seville,  the  great  commercial  metro- 
polis of  Spain,  practically  a  maritime  city.  The 
other  two  great  centres  of  painting  in  those 
days,  Venice  and  Antwerp — as  Bruges  earlier 
and  Amsterdam  later — were  also  great  seaports, 
commercially  linked  with  all  that  was  rich  and 
strange  and  beautiful  in  the  farthest  East  and 
the  farthest  West.  Such  centres  were  naturally 
the  homes  of  great  schools  of  painting ;  their 
cosmopolitan  atmosphere  favoured  an  attitude  of 


140  THE   SOUL  OF  SVAW 

sestlietic  detachment,  their  mercantile  activity 
brought  in  all  the  marvellous  exotic  products 
which  stimulate  and  develop  artistic  activity, 
and  the  wealth  of  their  merchants  enabled  the 
painters  who  thus  arose  to  work  out  to  the  full 
the  energy  within  them.  The  artists  of  each 
race  put  into  their  work  the  spirit  of  their  race 
— the  Fleming  his  excessive  energy,  his  delight 
in  gorgeous  colour,  the  Venetian  his  calm  and 
massive  satisfaction  in  the  sensuous  beauty  of 
man  and  woman,  in  the  joy  of  dreamful  repose 
— but  only  the  splendour  and  wealth  of  great 
maritime  centres  could  stimulate  the  racial  spirit 
to  embody  a  personal  vision  of  the  world  in 
pigments. 

Seville  was  then  at  the  height  of  its  glory. 
What  it  was  once  we  may  still  judge  by  its 
vitality  and  delightfulness  even  to-day.  It  was 
not  only  the  most  living  city  in  Spain,  it  was 
at  one  moment  the  most  conspicuous  city  of 
Europe,  the  commercial  metropolis  of  the  New 
World,  the  haven  of  those  galleons  whose  almost 
fabulously  rich  cargoes  so  mightily  impressed  at 
once  both  the  piratic  and  the  poetic  sides  of  the 
English  temper,  that  to  our  insular  imaginations 
they  have  passed  into  the  realm  of  fairyland. 
For  a  brief  period  Seville  was  the  centre  of  the 
commercial  world,  and  for  a  race  so  uncom- 
mercial as  the  Spanish,  so  swift  to  barter 
merchandise  for  those  causes  of  devotion  or  of 


VELAZQUEZ  141 

pride  that  lay  nearer  to  their  hearts,  this  in- 
evitably meant  the  profit  of  art,  above  all,  of 
religious  art.  The  quiet  eye  and  laborious 
hands  of  the  men  of  Bruges  and  Amsterdam 
were  largely  devoted  to  reproducing  the  precise 
lineaments  of  the  strange  and  beautiful  things 
that  their  ships  brought  to  their  quays.  The 
indolent  and  haughty  Spaniards  showed  no  such 
preoccupation.  The  art  of  Seville  was  mainly 
religious  art ;  the  Madonna,  then  as  now,  was 
worshipped  there  with  peculiar  fervour.  The 
Spanish  pictures  of  that  epoch  scarcely  show  the 
faintest  signs  of  Spain's  vast  colonial  empire — in 
large  measure,  it  may  well  be,  because  Spain 
traded  little  with  the  more  refined  countries  of 
the  East,  but  chiefly,  we  may  be  sure,  because  of 
the  temper  of  the  race.  Yet  in  the  inevitable 
cosmopolitan  influences  of  such  a  centre  of  life 
on  so  keen  an  eye  and  so  profound  an  intellect 
as  Velazquez,  lay  certainly  one  of  the  factors  in 
the  great  artist's  detachment  from  the  world  he 
scrutinised  so  keenly. 

To  understand  Velazquez,  however,  we  must 
not  forget  his  race.  On  the  mother's  side  he 
was  a  Spaniard,  an  Andalusian  hidalgo  of 
Seville,   a  Velazquez.^     This  maternal  ancestry 

^  I  adopt,  with  some  hesitation,  the  usual  Spanish  form  of  this 
name,  instead  of  the  traditional  English  form,  Velasquez,  but  I  am 
not  prepared  to  dispute  the  use  of  the  latter  form.  It  was  used  by 
Velazquez  himself,  and  it  doubtless  corresponds  to  his  own  Andalusian 
pronunciation.     Even  if  we  regard  it  as  an  Anglicised  form,  justifica- 


142  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

was  certcainly  a  primary  factor  in  making  him 
a  painter,  for  the  Portuguese,  though  not  with- 
out instincts  of  art,  have,  somewhat  strangely, 
seldom  shown  any  real  aptitude  for  painting. 
But  at  the  same  time  it  scarcely  seems  altogether 
to  account  for  the  temper  of  his  work.  There 
are  qualities  in  Velazquez's  work  which  we  find 
little  if  at  all  in  the  painters  of  Spain,  while 
some  of  the  most  conspicuous  features  of  pure 
Spanish  art  are  lacking.  Certainly,  the  Spanish 
artists  were  realists,  but  no  purely  Spanish  artist 
was  ever  so  radically  and  unfailingly  naturalistic 
as  Velazquez.  In  the  others  there  is  usually 
some  other  element  which  comes  into  conflict, 
often  rather  disastrous  conflict,  with  their 
realism,  especially  excess  of  religious  fervour 
and  excess  of  plebeianism.  By  both  these  traits, 
Velazquez,  though  he  lived  in  the  atmosphere 
that  was  peculiarly  favourable  to  their  develop- 
ment in  his  friends  and  fellow-pupils,  was  wholly 
untouched  from  first  to  last.  He  maintained 
with  absolute  calm  his  own  position  of  inde- 
pendence, and  developed  with  solid  tenacity 
and  sobriety  his  own  convinced  and  instinctive 
naturalism. 

Velazquez's  father  was  a  Silva,  of  noble  and 
ancient    family,     belonging    to    Oporto.      The 

tion  may  be  found  in  many  analogous  cases.  It  is  worth  noting  thtit 
the  English  way  of  spelling  Don  (^)uixote,  though  it  is  not  the  modern 
Spanish  way,  is  yet  the  way  that  Cervantes  wrote  it. 


VELAZQUEZ  143 

Northern  Portuguese  are  a  solid,  large-bodied, 
robust  race,  famed  for  the  beauty  of  their 
women,  and  distinguished  by  their  fierce  and 
resolute  spirit  of  freedom.  Oporto  first  arose 
to  shake  ofi"  the  Moorish  yoke,  and  the  men 
of  Northern  Portugal  still  to-day  represent 
the  ancient  Portuguese,  a  race  of  sturdy  and 
prosperous  farmers,  of  fearless  navigators  who 
preceded  the  English  in  sailing  to  far  seas  and 
seizing  strange  lands.  That  Velazquez  was  the 
son  of  a  Portuguese  father,  of  race  alien  to  the 
grave,  indolent,  sensuous  Andalusians,  was  doubt- 
less a  significant  factor  in  constituting  the  special 
temper  of  his  work. 

Young  Velazquez  early  learnt  Latin  and 
philosophy,  and  showed  a  taste  for  the  sciences. 
But  he  chose  to  be  a  painter,  and  as  the  family 
seems  to  have  possessed  some  means,  this  resolve 
indicates  a  real  vocation.  The  youth  was  placed 
with  Herrera,  a  powerful  painter,  but  too  indi- 
vidualistic a  personality  to  be  a  good  teacher; 
and  Velazquez  left  him  in  a  few  months  to  go  to 
Pacheco,  who,  although  he  designed  interesting 
portraits,  was  scarcely  a  painter  at  all,  but  an 
excellent  teacher,  a  genuine  lover  of  the  art  in 
which  he  showed  so  little  power  to  excel.  An 
adherent  of  the  old-fashioned  school  of  the 
"Mannerists,"  who  adored  Kaphael,  Pacheco 
was  yet  a  man  of  wide  culture  and  knowledge, 
a  sympathetic  critic,  an  esteemed  and  influential 


144  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

person  in  Seville,  where  indeed  his  house  seems  to 
have  been  the  chief  intellectual  centre,  almost  an 
academy.  He  quickly  realised  both  the  personal 
and  the  artistic  worth  of  Velazquez ;  he  gave 
him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  and  never  ceased 
to  speak  highly  of  him,  coupling  him,  indeed, 
with  Caravaggio  and  with  Eibera,  whom  he 
rightly  regarded  as  the  greatest  colourist  of  the 
time.  One  is  tempted,  indeed,  to  think  that 
Ribera's  art  had  a  direct  influence  on  Velazquez's 
early  work ;  the  "  Aguador  "  of  Apsley  House,  for 
instance,  the  finest  of  his  early  works,  distinctly 
recalls  the  methods  of  Kibera,  though  it  has  a 
calm  dignity  which  is  peculiarly  personal  to 
Velazquez.  But  it  is  asserted  that  at  this  period 
there  were  no  pictures  of  Ribera's  in  Seville 
for  Velazquez  to  see,  and  if  this  is  so  all  we 
can  say  is  that  he  began  his  artistic  career  in 
the  traditions  of  a  school  in  which  Ribera  was 
the  supreme  representative.  He  soon  began  to 
grow  out  of  these  traditions,  but  never  abruptly, 
never  do  we  find  him  making  any  sudden  turns 
in  the  wrong  direction.  He  always  moved 
slowly  and  deliberately  along  the  straight  path 
which  his  own  temperament  and  genius  marked 
out.  Not  even  the  most  powerful  and  seductive 
artistic  personalities  with  whom  he  came  in  con- 
tact had  any  influence  in  drawing  him  out  of 
this  ]3ath.  Nearly  every  picture  of  Velazquez 
has    its    own    individuality   and    novelty,    yet 


VELAZQUEZ  145 

always  remaining  the  spontaneous  outcome  of 
his  own  genius.  After  the  early  days  of  his 
apprenticeship  to  art  only  one  painter,  El  Greco, 
had  any  direct  and  definite  influence  in  modify- 
ing his  technical  processes ;  and  even  this  influ- 
ence, which  came  late,  after  he  had  settled  in 
Castile,  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  line  of  his  own 
native  growth.  Greco  had  died  before  Velazquez 
was  born ;  his  master  Pacheco  had  known  the 
strange  Toledan  painter  in  old  age,  and  referred 
to  him  as  "  a  great  philosopher,"  but  it  was  not 
until  Velazquez  had  reached  the  point  at 
which  Greco's  example  could  be  helpful  that  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  influenced  by  it.  His 
earlier  pictures  are  based  on  dull  reddish  pig- 
ments, as  commonly  used  by  the  Bologna 
school ;  these  tend  to  darken  and  to  come  to 
the  surface,  so  that  Velazquez's  early  pictures 
have  lost  in  quality.  He  slowly  began  to  reject 
this  method,  and  after  he  had  painted  "  Vulcan's 
Forge,"  and  probably  also  "  Christ  at  the 
Column,"  when  approaching  the  age  of  forty,  it 
is  evident  that  he  turned  seriously  to  the  study 
of  Greco.  He  began  to  use  a  white  or  grey 
ground  as  a  basis  (as  indeed  the  old  Flemings 
had  done  also) ;  he  learnt  the  use  of  delicate 
greys  in  flesh  colour ;  he  adopted  something  of 
Greco's  freedom  in  draperies ;  he  enriched  his 
palette  with  several  new  colours,  especially 
carmine,  which  he  found  in  Greco,  and  silvery 

L 


146  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

tones  succeeded  the  dryer  and  harder  burnt 
tones  of  his  earlier  work.  And  at  length  also 
(after  his  second  Italian  visit)  his  figures  became 
bathed  in  atmosphere.  Later,  as  he  approached 
his  fiftieth  year,  he  acquired  his  breadth  of 
touch,  aided  in  this,  no  doubt,  by  the  normal 
presbyopia  of  advancing  age,  which  made  it 
necessary  to  stand  farther  from  the  picture.  At 
the  same  time  he  evidently  worked  more  and 
more  rapidly ;  the  preparation,  in  uniform  grey, 
became  slighter  and  slighter,  scarcely  at  last 
covering  the  canvas,  the  texture  of  which,  though 
usually  fine,  may  frequently  be  seen  through 
it ;  latterly  also  he  used  very  fluid  colours, 
obtaining  almost  the  effect  of  water-colours.  It 
is  to  these  technical  methods  that  the  freshness 
and  permanence  of  the  pictures  of  the  third 
period  are  mainly  due.  But  the  three  periods 
merge  into  each  other  very  gradually ;  we  may 
probably,  with  Beruete,  regard  the  "  Borachos  "  as 
the  culmination  of  the  first  period,  the  "  Lances  " 
as  summing  up  the  second,  and  "  Innocent  X." 
(painted  during  the  artist's  second  visit  to  Italy) 
as  the  inauguration  of  the  third. 

If  any  further  condition  was  necessary  to 
complete  the  good  fortune  of  Velazquez,  it  was 
that  he  became  the  privileged  servant  and 
favourite  painter  of  the  King  of  Spain.  Kings 
have  often  been  admirable  connoisseurs  of  art, 
and  no  other  profession  afi'ords  such  an  aesthetic 


I 


VELAZQUEZ  147 

training  as  that  of  a  king.  It  was  always  so  to 
some  extent,  for  pillage  and  tribute  have  ever 
brought  the  finest  products  of  barbarism  to  royal 
palaces,  but  it  was  especially  so  in  the  later  days 
of  the  Renaissance.  A  seventeenth  -  century 
royal  palace  was  the  haven  of  all  lovely  and 
exquisite  things.  The  promotion  of  art  and  the 
patronage  of  artists,  from  Hampton  Court  to 
Moscow,  had  become  one  of  the  chief  duties 
of  a  sovereign,  and  the  final  effervescence  of 
the  Renaissance,  extending  to  every  country 
in  Europe,  furnished  ample  opportunity  for  the 
exercise  of  such  duties.  Moreover,  the  life  of 
a  king  is  largely  taken  up  in  the  contemplation 
of  spectacular  efi"ects.  During  the  whole  of  his 
active  career  he  is  the  chief  witness,  often  a 
passive  witness  for  very  prolonged  periods,  of 
the  most  varied  and  gorgeous  spectacular  effects 
which  the  skill  of  his  age  can  devise.  Thus  he 
is  under  the  very  best  conditions  for  heightening 
aesthetic  perception,  for  breeding  disgust  of  the 
merely  gaudy  and  vulgar.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  Englishman  of  his  age  had  a  finer 
judgment  in  pictures  than  Charles  I.  There  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  Spaniard  of  his 
age  had  more  highly  trained  aesthetic  perceptions 
than  Philip  IV.  Certainly  we  could  have  no 
better  proof  of  his  taste  than  his  unfailing  allegi- 
ance to  the  genius  of  Velazquez.  It  has  taken 
the  world  nearly  three  hundred  years  to  reach 


148         THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

a  conclusion  which  Philip  acted  on  from  the  first 
and  throughout. 

An  apartment  of  the  old  royal  palace,  the 
Alcazar,  was  given  to  Velazquez  as  a  studio, 
and  here  he  spent  the  greatest  part  of  his  life, 
and  painted  all  his  most  famous  pictures.  The 
Alcazar — which  occupied  the  site  of  the  present 
palace — was  a  vast  and  sombre  building,  dating 
from  Moorish  times,  and  it  was  the  seat  not 
only  of  the  Court,  but  of  the  whole  government 
of  the  Spanish  Empire.  The  rooms  of  the 
palace,  we  are  told,  were  large  and  very  gloomy, 
doubly  contrived  to  shut  out  both  the  blazing 
summer  sun  and  the  freezing  winter  blasts  of 
that  lofty  plain,  whose  keen  air  Charles  V.  found 
so  good,  but  which  scarcely  commends  itself  as  a 
wholesome  climate  for  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Even  if  we  were  without  knowledge  of  the  spot 
where  Velazquez  was  chiefly  accustomed  to  live 
and  work,  we  should  be  tempted  to  find  it  in 
the  gloomy  heights  of  ancient  apartments,  and 
the  long  perspective  of  corridors  and  rooms 
beyond,  that  enlarge  and  contract  the  area  of 
distant  space.  I  have  already  insisted  on  the 
peculiar  aloofness  and  independence  of  Velazquez, 
his  strange  impermeability  to  outside  influence. 
He  never  imitated  his  early  teachers ;  he  lived 
in  close  intercourse  with  Rubens,  the  most 
fascinating  and  masterful  painter  of  his  time, 
and  developed  indeed,  but  he  was  never  tempted 


I 


VELAZQUEZ  149 

to  try  to  paint  as  Kubens  painted.  He  went 
to  Venice,  which  he  probably  regarded  as  the 
supreme  home  of  art,  studying  not  only  Titian 
but  also  Tintoret,  who  had  already  grappled 
with  some  of  the  problems  that  specially  attracted 
himself,  and  developed  always,  but  always  along 
his  own  lines.  He  lived  and  painted  in  Kome, 
whose  imperial  voice  has  drowned  the  native 
inspirations  of  so  many  artists ;  and  he  painted 
some  of  his  most  original  and  most  modern 
works,  of  the  seductive  influence  of  Rome 
showing  no  faintest  traces.  The  gloomy  Alcazar 
alone  left  at  last  its  impress  on  the  least  impres- 
sionable of  painters.  Before  he  went  to  Madrid, 
the  problem  of  painting  a  room  full  of  space 
had  never  occupied  him ;  in  the  Alcazar  that 
problem  occupied  him  more  and  more,  and  the 
most  triumphant  achievements  of  his  so-called 
third  period  mark  the  final  conquest  of  his 
genius  over  the  problems  so  persistently  pre- 
sented to  him  by  the  vast  and  sombre  palace 
in  which  most  of  his  life  was  spent.  Indeed, 
the  greater  part  of  Velazquez's  work  may  be 
said  to  show  this  influence.  The  bare  and  lofty 
rooms,  filled  with  luminous  gloom,  in  which  the 
human  figures  seem  to  play  so  small  a  part,  and 
leading  not,  like  those  De  Hoogh  delighted  to 
paint,  into  dazzling  sunshine,  but  into  a  further 
region  of  space  only  less  dim,  with  many  other 
characteristics    of  Velazquez's    work,    must    be 


150  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

traced  to  the  old  Moorish  Alcazar.  The  long, 
straight,  vertical  lines,  which  so  often  prevail 
in  his  pictures  of  interiors,  are  those  which  are 
inevitably  conditioned  by  the  vision  of  lofty 
apartments  seen  in  gloom.  Velazquez  delighted 
in  painting  those  narrow,  high,  many-pannelled 
doors,  such  as  we  see  anywhere  in  Spain  to-day, 
leading  into  the  smallest  rooms,  and  fashioned 
by  the  Spaniard  of  old  to  the  height  of  his 
pride,  rather  than  of  his  physical  stature.  Such 
doors  have  moulded  the  scheme  of  some  of  the 
painter's  most  characteristic  works.  The  extreme 
reticence  of  Velazquez's  exquisite  colouring, 
though  it  was  encouraged  by  such  an  environ- 
ment as  he  found  himself  in,  lay  certainly  deeper 
than  any  influence  of  environment.  There  are, 
in  the  ordinary  sense,  few  great  colourists  in 
Spanish  art,  when  we  have  put  aside  Greco,  who 
was  not  a  Spaniard,  and  Ribera,  who  worked 
outside  Spain.  There  is,  indeed,  little  real  sense 
for  colour  in  the  Spanish  genius,  a  fact  that 
is  the  more  surprising  when  we  remember  the 
unfailing  instinct  for  colour  shown  to-day  by 
the  Moors,  in  their  costumes  and  many  of  their 
industrial  arts.  In  Spanish  life  the  intoxication 
of  colour  is  certainly  present,  but  for  the  most 
part  crude  and  heady,  with  the  ring  of  tam- 
bourines and  castanets  in  the  blaze  of  it. 

The  genius  of  Velazquez  may  even  be  said 
to  have  been  aided  by  the  character  of  the  royal 


VELAZQUEZ  151 

models  whom  it  was  liis  chief  duty  to  paint. 
His  brilliant  and  accomplished  contemporary, 
Vandyck,  lived  in  England  and  painted  the 
fresh  and  handsome  young  cavaliers  of  the 
Kenaissance  world  that  was  soon  to  be  sub- 
merged, looking  at  them  with  eyes  trained  in 
an  exotic  civilisation,  and  painting  them  with 
that  touch  of  idealism  that  was  needed  to  make 
those  barbarians  altogether  delightful  in  our 
eyes.  Velazquez  painted  that  mournful  house 
of  Hapsburg,  and  the  strange  creatures  who 
allied  themselves  with  it.  The  Hapsburgs  have 
exhibited  a  more  strongly  marked  facial  type 
than  any  other  in  history — a  facial  type  that 
dates,  as  Count  Zichy,  who  has  studied  them, 
shows,  at  least  as  far  back  as  two  great- 
grandmothers  of  Charles  V.,  both  belonging  to 
the  royal  house  of  Portugal,  and  is  still  per- 
petuated to-day.  In  Velazquez's  day  the  Haps- 
burgs were  falling  to  a  very  low  level,  both  of 
mental  and  physical  anomaly  or  decay.  Philip 
himself  preserved  mental  integrity,  but  at  what 
effort  and  cost  we  may  realise  as  we  gaze  at 
the  familiar  face  Velazquez  has  immortalised,  the 
unbalanced  face  with  its  unchanging  aspect  of 
profound  and  hopeless  melancholy.  There  is,  at 
least,  distinction  in  such  decadence ;  the  deca* 
dence  of  his  consort  Mariana  (who  was  also  his 
niece)  is  merely  vulgar,  with  her  thick  nose, 
infantine    empty   eyes,    and    haughty    upraised 


152         THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

lips — an  almost  imbecile  little  hoyden,  bound 
round  by  the  iron  hoops  of  court  etiquette.  The 
outcome  of  such  a  union  we  see  in  the  portrait 
at  Vienna — as  painted  by  Velazquez's  pupil, 
Carreno — of  Charles  II.,  a  young  man  with  loose 
feeble  face,  great  fleshy  nose,  and,  larger  than 
ever,  the  protruding  lower  jaw  and  lip,  a  pathetic 
image  of  imperial  idiocy.  It  was  on  these,  and 
such  as  these,  that  Velazquez  spent  his  keen 
intellect  and  unfailingly  sincere  eye,  his  special 
genius  for  concentrating  the  maximum  of  truth 
into  an  indubitable  picture,  an  unquestionable 
vision  of  loveliness.  These  terrible  faces,  these 
sombre  ugly  garbs,  seem  to  be  specially  contrived 
to  wring  from  such  a  nature  as  that  of  Velazquez 
the  most  exquisite  efi'ects  the  art  of  painting  can 
yield. 

Velazquez  idealised  these  types  in  the  only 
way  in  which  such  types  could  be  idealised, 
not  by  attenuating  or  disguising  their  repulsive 
or  unamiable  traits,  but  by  realising  them  to 
their  fullest  extent,  sensitively,  sincerely, 
harmoniously,  with  penetrating  intellectual 
comprehension.  It  is  the  dignity  of  complete 
realisation,  never  pushed  to  caricature,  never 
made  an  excuse  for  the  artist's  cleverness  at 
his  model's  expense,  which  ennobles  even  the 
degraded  dwarfs  and  bufi'oons  whom  Velazquez 
so  often  painted.  We  see  each  of  them  here 
absolutely  himself,  in  every  feature  and  gesture ; 


VELAZQUEZ  153 

it  is  the  triumphant  assertion  of  Spanish  gravity. 
Beruete  remarks  that  Velazquez  spent  a  large 
part  of  his  career  in  chanting  a  hymn  to 
ugliness.  But  this  reverent  yet  serene  impar- 
tiality in  the  face  of  all  the  manifestations  of 
life  was  far  from  involving  any  predilection  for 
ugliness.  I  even  doubt  whether  Velazquez 
knew  what  ugliness  was.  It  was  not  ugliness 
or  beauty  that  he  saw,  but  life  and  character, 
the  spirit  vivifying  every  line  and  movement 
of  the  body.  He  paints  the  inspired  sculptor 
Montanes  with  the  same  fine  realisation  as  the 
vacuous  buffoon  or  the  narrow-minded  Pope ; 
he  is  equally  incomparable  when  he  has  before 
him  a  gracious  or  noble  woman.  It  is  only 
when  his  task  calls  him  outside  of  life  and 
nature  that  we  learn  that  there  are  limitations 
to  an  intellect  that  seems  so  endlessly  subtle 
and  a  hand  that  answers  to  it  so  truly.  He 
painted  life  divinely,  but  when  he  undertook 
to  paint  what  men  are  pleased  to  consider  as 
the  divine  —  the  allegorical,  the  mythic,  the 
supernatural  —  the  result  is  no  longer  divine. 
Nothing  shows  this  more  clearly  than  the 
"  Coronation  of  the  Virgin " ;  here  is  the 
boundary  against  which  the  art  of  Velazquez 
beats  in  vain.  No  painter,  except  Leonardo, 
gives  so  profound  an  impression  of  intellect, 
but  it  is  intellect  that  works  exclusively 
through  the  eyes.     With  closed  eyes  he  could 


154  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

see  nothing,  so  that  all  that  world  which  we 
call  "  ideal,"  and  often  think  so  important, 
was  almost  a  blank  to  him ;  he  became  as 
helpless,  as  artificial  as  the  artists  of  third- 
rate  rank.  His  intellect  came  through  his  eyes, 
which  turned  a  new  and  living  mirror  on  to 
every  new  and  living  scene,  and  revealed  it 
as  it  is,  but  at  its  best.  Conventions  and 
traditions,  those  tricks  of  the  studio  which  even 
the  great  artists  had  been  content  to  accept, 
for  the  most  part  fell  away,  nor  were  substituted 
by  any  fresh  mannerisms  of  his  own.  Each 
new  subject,  each  new  scene,  called  for  its  own 
interpretation.  That  is  why  any  attempt  of 
later  artists  to  build  up  a  convention  on  the 
basis  of  Velazquez  is  bound  to  be  a  failure. 
Whistler,  in  one  of  his  best -known  pictures, 
takes  a  pretty  little  Anglo-Saxon  child  and 
places  her  chin  stiffly  in  the  air,  like  Queen 
Mariana's,  and  puts  her  in  an  environment 
that  vaguely  suggests  the  severity  of  a  Spanish 
palace,  and  we  exclaim,  "  How  like  Velazquez  ! " 
Yet  nothing  could  be  less  in  the  spirit  of 
Velazquez. 

His  royal  model  helped  Velazquez  further 
by  the  speed  with  which  it  was  necessary  to 
paint  a  monarch  who  was  absorbed  in  afiairs. 
The  swift,  simple  methods,  the  thin  coats  of 
pigment,  the  daring  contrasts,  the  impressionistic 
manner  -which  Velazquez  slowly  evolved,  might 


VELAZQUEZ  155 

possibly  never  have  attained  full  development 
except  under  stress  of  the  necessity  of  per- 
petually painting  a  busy  monarch  absorbed  in 
affairs  of  state  and  pleasure.  Here,  however, 
there  was  probably  another  factor  of  more 
organic  character.  Velazquez  clearly  was  a 
man  of  great  personal  charm.  But  he  possessed 
a  temperament  of  passive  indolent  melancholy, — 
phlegmatic  apathy  Philip  IV.  considered  it, — a 
haughtier  form  of  that  serious  indolence  which 
everywhere  marks  the  Andalusian,  in  painting 
as  in  life  generally.  Whereas,  however,  that 
indolence  has  often  led  to  shallowness  and 
crudity  in  painting,  in  this  case  it  was  checked 
by  the  veracity  and  profound  artistic  conscience, 
the  energetic  Portuguese  element  in  the  man. 
Velazquez  expended  tremendous  energy  in 
acquiring  the  art  of  putting  a  minimum  of 
energy  into  his  work.  Progress  in  the  practice 
of  art,  as  in  the  theories  of  science,  may  well 
be  by  leaving  out,  by  simplification,  but  nothing 
is  so  laborious  as  learning  what  labour  we  may 
omit.  Scarcely  one  of  the  great  painters  of  the 
world  has  left  less  work  behind  than  Velazquez. 
Every  picture  that  he  painted  may  be  said  to 
be  an  experiment,  and  in  every  case  the  problem 
was  to  attain  a  more  complete  representation  of 
the  visible  world  with  an  economy  of  pigment 
and  a  more  subtle  appeal  to  the  eye. 

I   have   tried  to  indicate  briefly  what  seem 


156  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

to  me  the  sources  of  the  main  elements  that 
went  to  the  making  of  this  supreme  manifesta- 
tion of  the  art  of  painting.  Eace,  ancestry, 
birthplace,  and  all  the  circumstances  of  training 
and  environment  and  work,  had  their  part  in 
making  Velazquez  the  artist  who  now  after 
three  centuries  is  only  beginning  to  be  realised 
in  his  true  significance.  All  these  various 
circumstances  served  to  enhance  that  special 
quality  of  distinction  —  of  aristocratic  reserve 
and  restraint  of  visible  effort  —  which  slowly 
dominates  the  whole  work  of  Velazquez,  and 
remains  the  last  impression  which  the  memory 
of  his  pictures  leaves  on  the  beholder. 

ni 

It  is  in  the  Prado  alone  that  it  is  possible  fully 
to  realise  the  genius  of  Velazquez.  The  works 
of  no  other  great  painter  have  been  so  little 
dispersed  by  the  vicissitudes  of  time.  Velazquez 
painted  for  the  Kings  of  Spain,  and  in  the 
Royal  Gallery  his  pictures  still  remain.  At 
Vienna,  indeed,  there  are  some  of  his  pictures, 
and  more  that  have  been  wrongly  ascribed  to 
him.  But  outside  Madrid,  England  alone  can 
be  said  to  be  rich  in  the  possession  of  works 
by  Velazquez,  in  part  owing  to  the  admiration 
which  has  here  been  felt  for  this  great  master 
ever  since  the  eighteenth  century,  and  in  part 


VELAZQUEZ  157 

to  the  close  connection  of  England  with  Spain 
in  the  Peninsular  AVar.  If,  as  Justi  says,  all 
the  works  of  Velazquez  scattered  over  England 
were  brought  together,  London  would  possess 
a  collection  worthy  to  compare  even  with  that 
in  the  Prado.^  As  it  is,  however,  the  National 
Gallery  may  be  said  to  contain  distinctly  the  most 
varied  and  interesting  collection  of  Velazquez's 
works  outside  Madrid,  even  apart  from  the  fact 
that  it  possesses  in  the  "  Venus  and  Cupid  "  the 
greatest  picture  of  his  which  has  left  Spain. 

After  Madrid,  London  is,  then,  the  only  place 
in  which  it  is  possible  to  make  any  serious  study 
of  Velazquez.  In  the  case  of  a  painter  who 
needs  so  much  study  before  his  charm  can  Le 
experienced,  this  is  a  fact  that  is  well  worth 
emphasising.  Any  one  can  persuade  himself 
that  he  likes  the  Italians,  even  the  early 
Italians.  The  northern  painters  are  more  slow 
to  yield  their  secret ;  it  may  be  only  by  a 
process  comparable  to  religious  conversion  that 
the  greatness  of  Kubens  can  be  grasped.  But 
Velazquez  is  the  last  of  all  to  reveal  his  fascina- 
tion ;  it  is  with  him  especially  that  we  need 
to  remember  the  saying  of  Schopenhauer,  that 

^  In  the  Exhibition  of  Spanish  Art  at  the  New  Gallery  in  1895 
there  were  forty-three  pictures  bv,  or  attributed  to,  Velazquez,  and  in 
the  Exhibition  of  Spanish  Pictures  at  the  Guildhall  in  1901  there 
were  forty-one,  many  not  included  in  the  previous  exhibition  ;  while 
Williamson  enumerates  over  one  hundred  pictures  in  Great  Britain 
attributed  to  Velazquez,  outside  the  National  Gallery. 


158  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

before  a  great  artist,  as  before  a  king,  we  must 
remain  silent  until  he  speaks  first.  As  not 
all  can  go  to  Madrid,  and  those  who  go  can 
seldom  stay  long  enough  to  understand  what 
they  see,  the  Spanish  Room  in  the  National 
Gallery  well  deserves  our  attention,  and  pre- 
sents, moreover,  some  obscure  but  attractive 
problems  which  it  may  be  worth  while  to 
discuss,  however  briefly. 

Three,  at  least,  of  the  pictures  in  this  room 
rank  among  Velazquez's  very  fine  work  :  the 
superb  "  Venus  and  Cupid,"  the  "  Boar  Hunt," — 
though  it  has  clearly  lost  much  of  its  freshness 
and  charm  through  being  burnt  and  darkened 
in  the  disastrous  fire  at  the  Alcazar,  and  sub- 
sequently repainted,^ — and  the  bust  portrait  of 
Philip  IV.,  an  exquisite  example  of  the  technical 
qualities  of  Velazquez's  late  work  in  portraiture 
which  it  is  interesting  to  compare  with  the 
commonplace  full-length  portrait  of  the  King 
of  early  date  which  hangs  opposite. 

Among  the  others  there  are  several  to  which 
no  doubt  or  difiiculty  attaches.  There  is,  for 
instance,  the  very  curious  "  Christ  in  the  House 
of  Martha."  This  is  one  of  the  earliest  of  Velaz- 
quez's extant  pictures.  Beruete  puts  it  at  the 
head   of  his   list   of  the  authentic  works,  and 

1  The  "Boar  Hunt"  was  repainted  in  England  by  Lance  and 
others,  but  in  what  portions,  and  to  what  extent,  arc  questions  tiiat 
have  been  much  debated. 


VELAZQUEZ  159 

Ricketts  remarks  that  it  shows  the  influence  of 
Pacheco ;  the  same  model  seems  to  have  been 
used  as  in  the  picture  of  about  the  same  date, 
also  in  England,  of  the  "  Old  Woman  making  an 
Omelet."  For  a  long  period  the  large  and  in 
many  respects  rich  and  fine  picture  of  the  "  Ador- 
ation of  the  Shepherds "  was,  especially  in 
England,  also  considered  to  be  an  early  Velaz- 
quez. Armstrong  regarded  it  as  a  work  of 
Velazquez  in  the  manner  of  Ribera ;  Ford  called 
it  a  copy  of  Kibera ;  Justi  was  of  the  same 
opinion,  believing  that  only  the  Madonna  re- 
vealed Velazquez's  own  manner.  In  Spain, 
however,  even  in  the  early  part  of  the  last 
century,  the  picture  was  considered  to  be  an 
early  work  of  Zurbaran ;  so  also  Viardot  re- 
garded it.  Beruete  states  that  the  Virgin's 
figure,  and  that  of  the  child  Jesus  and  of  the 
young  women  in  the  foreground,  show  that  the 
picture  is  Zurbaran's,  and  that  it  must  be  classed 
among  his  best  works.  Poynter,  a  former 
Director  of  the  National  Gallery,  after  examining 
much  of  Zurbaran's  work  in  Spain,  also  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  be  assigned  to 
that  master,  and  is  responsible  for  its  present 
attribution,  which  now  seems  to  be  generally 
accepted.  It  must  be  admitted  that  the  picture, 
fine  and  interesting  as  it  is,  by  no  means  recalls 
the  typical  work  of  Zurbaran's  more  personal 
style,  such  as  we  see  it  in  the  Seville  Museum 


160  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

or  even  in  the  two  quite  characteristic  pictures 
which  stand  beside  the  "  Adoration  "  in  this  room. 
It  would  appear  that  at  the  outset  of  his  career 
Zurbaran  experienced  the  composite  influence  of 
Ribera,  of  Velazquez,  and  of  Bolognese  artists 
like  Domenichino,  who  accepted  the  conventional 
classic  type  of  figures,  such  as  one  sees  here  in 
the  girl  with  the  basket  in  the  background  on 
the  right. 

The  "  Dead  Warrior,"  a  finely  and  soberly 
painted  work,  which  the  National  Gallery 
authorities  "  ascribe  "  to  Velazquez,  is  accepted 
as  his  by  Armstrong  and  many  others  who  have 
recognised  the  dignified  and  impressive  quality 
of  the  work,  and  could  think  of  no  one  else  but 
Velazquez  to  attribute  it  to.  Yet  it  is  very 
difficult  indeed  to  accept  this  attribution,  and 
equally  difficult  to  attribute  the  picture  plausibly 
to  any  one  else.  Some  have  mentioned  the 
name  of  Valdes  Leal  in  this  connection,  yet  the 
muscular,  energetic  method  of  Valdes  Leal  in  his 
early  work  at  Cordova,  and  the  meretricious 
restlessness  of  his  better-known  later  pictures  in 
the  Caridad  at  Seville,  are  alike  far  from  this 
solemn  and  harmonious  picture,  as  is  the  loose 
and  sketchy  painting  of  the  same  master  which 
hangs  close  by.  Ricketts,  remarking  that  the 
ground  in  this  picture  is  painted  in  a  manner 
totally  unlike  Velazquez,  gives  it  to  Zurbaran. 
Beruete,  on  the  other  hand,  while  equally  con- 


4 


VELAZQUEZ  161 

vinced  that  the  "  Dead  Warrior  "  is  not  by  Velaz- 
quez, thinks  that  it  is  probably  not  of  the  Spanish 
school  at  all.  It  is  unsafe  to  say  that  a  picture 
is  not  by  Velazquez  simply  because  it  is  unlike 
his  other  pictures,  for  it  is  very  seldom  that  he 
closely  repeated  himself;  every  picture  of  his 
has  its  own  individuality  and  intellectual  vitality. 
Yet  the  "Dead  Warrior  "  is  not  only  in  a  mood 
unlike  that  of  any  other  picture  of  Velazquez's, 
it  is  outside  the  sphere  in  which  his  genius 
moved.  It  is  definitely  in  the  romantic  manner. 
Velazquez  often  painted  mythological  subjects 
and  introduced  into  them  emblematic  features, 
but  always  in  an  awkward  and  forced  way,  and 
with  instinctive  insistence  on  their  realism.  But 
this  picture  of  the  "  Dead  Warrior,"  with  the 
little  burning  lamp  delicately  suspended  from 
the  branch  above,  and  the  skull  and  thigh-bones 
beside  the  body,  is  harmoniously  conceived  and 
carried  out  in  a  non-natural  and  romantic  spirit, 
which  we  can  scarcely  conceive  Velazquez  enter- 
ing into,  and  still  less  realising  successfully.  It 
may  have  been  a  Neapolitan  picture  showing  the 
influence  of  E-ibera ;  but,  in  any  case,  the  ascrip- 
tion to  Velazquez  must,  it  seems  to  me,  be 
decisively  rejected. 

The  "Admiral  Pulido  Pareja,"  formerly  at 
Longford  Castle  and  bought  for  the  National 
Gallery  some  years  ago  at  a  high  price,  is  com- 
monly regarded  as  a  genuine  and  very  fine  work 

M 


162  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

of  Velazquez.  Palomino,  sixty  years  after  Velaz- 
quez's death,  indeed,  stated  that  he  painted  an 
important  portrait  of  the  Admiral  in  1639 — 
about  the  period  that  he  probably  painted  his 
"  Crucifixion  " — and  on  the  canvas  of  this  picture 
is  an  inscription  stating  that  it  is  by  Velazquez, 
although  this  inscription,  being  in  a  form  never 
elsewhere  used  by  Velazquez  himself,  is  a  dubious 
guarantee  of  authenticity.  It  is  a  picture  that 
is  without  question  very  much  in  the  manner 
of  Velazquez,  and  on  the  whole  so  fine  that  it  is 
difficult  to  assign  it  to  any  other  Spanish  painter 
of  the  time.  Yet,  after  an  acquaintance  of  years 
with  this  portrait,  and  a  comparison  of  it  with 
the  other  portraits  of  Velazquez,  a  certain  doubt 
may  arise  as  to  whether  we  really  have  here  a 
work  that  is  completely,  or  perhaps  at  all,  by 
Velazquez.  The  vigour  and  solidity  of  much  of 
the  work  scarcely  counterbalance  the  awkward- 
ness of  other  parts.  Velazquez  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  allow  the  head,  firmly  modelled  as  in 
this  case  it  no  doubt  is,  to  fall  into  so  posterior 
a  plane  of  the  picture ;  nor  is  this  balanced  by 
any  compensating  beauty  in  the  limbs.  We 
miss  that  penetrative  intellectuality,  that  sensi- 
tive sympathy  making  realism  exquisite,  which  is 
always  present  in  the  portrait  work  of  Velazquez, 
especially  at  so  advanced  a  period  as  1637.  It 
would  be  idle  to  say  that  the  model  is  at  fault, 
because  Velazquez  reveals  these  qualities  even  in 


VELAZQUEZ  163 

painting  dwarfs  and  buffoons.  If  also  we  examine 
the  quality  of  the  painting  more  in  detail,  the 
hand  of  Velazquez  is  again  not  clearly  evident. 
If  the  picture  is  by  Velazquez,  we  cannot  say 
that  it  is  in  the  early  manner  of  the  full-length 
**  Philip  "  which  hangs  near  it ;  the  brush-work, 
especially  illustrated  by  the  sleeves,  is  freer  and 
looser,  as  Velazquez's  became  during  his  second 
period,  but  here  is  meaningless,  unbeautiful, 
boggled,  as  Velazquez's  never  is. 

It  was  not  until  after  I  had  formed  my  own 
opinion  about  this  picture  that  I  read  Beruete's 
Life  of  Velazquez,  and  was  interested  to  find  the 
same  conclusion  stated  with  much  decision. 
Beruete,  whose  judgments  are  usually  well- 
informed  and  judicious,  discusses  the  authen- 
ticity of  this  picture  at  greater  length  than 
any  other  doubtful  work  of  Velazquez's  ;  while 
concluding  that  it  cannot  be  by  Velazquez,  he 
hazards  no  suggestion  as  to  its  authorship,  but 
in  pointing  out  that  it  has  hitherto  always  been 
regarded  as  an  original,  he  seems  to  suggest  that 
it  may  be  a  copy  of  a  lost  original. 

The  "  Admiral"  is  the  type  of  a  simple  and 
direct  kind  of  portraiture  which  more  than  one 
Spanish  painter  of  that  age  achieved  a  certain 
measure  of  success  in.  Thus  in  the  Prado  there 
is  a  fine  portrait  of  Don  Tiburcio  Redin — 
standing  erect,  booted  and  spurred,  and  grasping 
his   hat    like     the    Admiral,    only    much    less 


164  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

gracefully — which  was  once  attributed  to  Mazo, 
and  is  now  given  to  Juan  Rizi.  Again  we  have 
in  the  National  Gallery,  opposite  the  "  Admiral," 
a  smaller  portrait,  undoubtedly  by  Mazo,  of 
exactly  the  same  type  as  the  "  Admiral,"  but  very 
far  from  so  finely  painted.  Although  one  may 
well  hesitate  to  suggest  that  Mazo  executed  the 
"  Admiral,"  it  must  be  remembered  that  there  is 
very  often  excellent  reason  for  hesitating  between 
Velazquez  and  Mazo,  and  that  the  recent 
tendency  to  attribute  to  the  latter  various  works 
once  given  to  the  former,  far  from  being  a  mere 
fashion,  as  some  imagine,  is  based  on  a  sounder 
knowledge  of  Mazo's  work  and  a  better  realisa- 
tion of  the  relations  between  the  two  artists. 
Mazo  was  Velazquez's  pupil,  and  learnt  all  of  his 
methods  that  a  sound  though  not  highly  dis- 
tinguished artist  could  learn ;  he  married  his 
daughter,  he  worked  beside  him  in  his  studio, 
he  succeeded  him  as  Court  painter.  The  intimate 
association  of  so  good  a  pupil  with  so  friendly 
and  helpful  a  painter  as  we  can  easily  discern 
Velazquez  to  have  been,  cannot  fail  to  lead  to 
much  doubt,  especially  when  the  two  worked  on 
the  same  canvas.  The  respective  parts  of 
Velazquez  and  Mazo  in  the  fine  view  of  Saragossa 
in  the  Prado  have  caused  much  diff"erence  of 
opinion  among  good  critics,  and  the  same  diffi- 
culty occurs  in  relation  to  the  "  Boar  Hunt"  here 
— Armstrong,  for  instance,  attributing  the  nobly 


VELAZQUEZ  165 

painted  landscape  background  to  Mazo,  and 
Beruete  to  Velazquez.  Whether  this  portrait  of 
Admiral  Pulido  Pareja  is  a  good  copy  of  a  lost 
original,  or  whether  it  is  a  work  in  which 
Velazquez  co-operated,  or  whether  it  represents 
an  unusually  fine  effort  by  an  artist  who  had 
acquired  the  external  qualities  of  Velazquez's 
style,  there  are  no  means  of  determining. 

"  Christ  at  the  Column  "  is  another  fine  but 
somewhat  enigmatic  work.  It  was  quite  unknown 
until  a  few  years  ago,  and  it  is  occasionally 
denied  that  Velazquez  had  anything  to  do  with 
it.  But  here,  it  seems  to  me,  the  hand  of 
Velazquez  is  so  convincingly  shown  that  no 
external  guarantee  of  genuineness  is  required. 
The  colouring,  the  light  brush-work,  the  in- 
sistent naturalism  with  which  Velazquez  always 
approached  sacred  and  mythological  subjects, 
taken  altosjether,  seem  decisive.  The  figjure  of 
Christ  is  conceived  with  a  poignant  originality 
which  is  rare  in  Velazquez  when  he  enters  the 
sphere  of  imagination,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
all  his  literal  veracity  is  embodied  in  the  angel, 
whose  artificial  wings,  as  Beruete  points  out,  are 
fastened  to  the  body  by  crossed  bands  of  drapery. 
If,  as  Beruete  also  states,  apparently  with  truth, 
this  angel  is  from  the  same  model  as  the  portrait 
in  the  Prado  supposed  to  be  Velazquez's  wife, 
and  painted  about  1630,  we  have  a  proof  of 
authenticity  which  may  carry  weight  with  those 


166  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

who  are  not  impressed  by  the  peculiarly  personal 
qualities  of  this  picture  as  a  whole. 

One  other  large  and  interesting  picture, 
attributed  to  Velazquez,  remains  in  this  room, 
and  presents,  perhaps,  the  most  curious  puzzle 
of  all.  The  "  Betrothal "  has  been  for  some 
years  in  the  Gallery,  and  I  was  formerly  disposed 
to  accept  it  as  an  interesting  and  characteristic 
work  of  Velazquez's  third  style,  though  indeed 
presenting  one  or  two  features  in  which  his 
manner  seemed  to  be  tending  to  an  uncharacter- 
istic excess.  But  I  was  not  then  acquainted 
with  a  passage  in  Beruete's  Life  of  Velazquez 
which,  if  reliable,  entirely  negatives  any  connec- 
tion of  Velazquez  with  the  picture.  Beruete 
gives  reasons  for  believing  that  the  picture  is 
by  the  Italian  artist  Luca  Giordano.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  Giordano  arrived  in  Spain 
thirty  years  after  Velazquez's  death,  and  that  he 
was  apparently  the  first  person  who  realised  the 
immense  significance  of  his  work,  and  especially  of 
its  final  development  in  the  supreme  "Meninas." 
This  alone  suffices  to  prove  his  fine  taste,  and 
although  his  own  work,  in  the  exuberant  and 
artificial  Italian  manner  of  that  day,  fails  any 
longer  to  interest  us,  it  appears  that  he  possessed 
not  only  a  fine  taste  but  a  receptive  intelligence 
and  a  very  sensitive  and  accomplished  hand. 
He  was  a  skilful  imitator  of  the  style  of  Ribera, 
and  in  the  Pinakothek  at  Munich  a  clever  picture 


VELAZQUEZ  167 

of  his  of  the  "Death  of  Seneca"  was  long 
attributed  to  Ribera.  Beruete  believes  that  he 
painted  this  "  Betrothal,"  and  he  points  out  in 
proof  of  this, — and  in  proof  also,  it  might  be 
added,  of  the  sincerity  of  this  tribute  from 
Giordano  to  the  greater  painter, — that  the 
spectacled  figure  in  the  right  foreground  who 
seems  to  be  showing  the  scene  to  the  spectator 
is  Giordano's  own  portrait,  also  to  be  seen  in  the 
same  painter's  fresco  on  the  ceiling  of  the  sacristy 
of  Toledo  Cathedral.  I  cannot  confirm  this,  not 
having  felt  sufiicient  interest  in  Giordano  to 
examine  the  ceiling  of  the  sacristy  when  at 
Toledo,  but  if  correct  it  settles  the  question.  I 
would  add  that  the  general  way  of  conceiving 
the  scene,  so  characteristically  that  of  Velazquez, 
was  probably  based  by  Giordano  on  a  study  of 
"  Las  Hilanderas  "  ;  that  picture,  and  that  only, 
is  remotely  suggested  by  the  "  Betrothal." 

On  the  whole,  nothing  could  be  more  in 
the  style  of  Velazquez  than  this  "  Betrothal," 
and  the  beautiful  subdued  colour  harmonies  of 
several  passages  are  entirely  his,  though  it  must 
be  admitted  that  Giordano  has  pushed  the  way 
of  Velazquez  to  an  extreme.  Velazquez  painted 
moments  of  life,  but  scarcely  fractions  of  a  second, 
as  here,  where  we  see  a  dog  in  the  air.  The 
aristocratic  distinction  of  Velazquez,  again,  is 
embodied  in  one  or  two  of  the  figures,  but 
becomes  at  times  almost  a  languorous  affectation, 


168  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

as  it  never  is  in  any  of  his  undoubted  works,  and 
the  general  composition  of  the  picture,  though 
in  the  main  that  of  Velazquez,  is  more  hetero- 
geneous and  more  artificial  than  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  in  his  work.^  Yet  it  remains  a  beautiful 
picture ;  the  child  especially,  who  is  the  central 
figure,  is  very  finely  painted,  altogether  in 
Velazquez's  latest  way,  and  if  Giordano  painted 
it  we  may  accept  it  thankfully  as  a  lesson  in  the 
art  of  Velazquez  by  a  highly  sympathetic  and 
accomplished  artist  who,  since  he  has  brought 
himself  into  the  scene  as  the  visible  teacher  of 
the  lesson,  seeming  to  say  to  us,  "I  also  can 
paint  like  Velazquez,"  can  have  had  no  intention 
of  fraud. 

Only  one  slight  picture  remains,  the  sketch  en- 
titled "A  Duel  in  the  Prado."  It  is  unimportant 
and  seems  to  have  attracted  little  attention,  but 
its  very  slightness  is  not  without  interest,  and 
it  shows  the  method  of  painting  which,  during  his 
second  period,  Velazquez  tended  more  and  more 
to  prefer.  Even  this  sketch,  however,  is  a  little 
puzzling.  It  hangs  beside  the  "  Boar  Hunt,"  and 
not  only  does  it  present  a  general  resemblance 
in  pattern  to  the  greater  picture,  but  the  group 
of  three   persons  in  the  foreground  is   exactly 

^  The  picture  is  not  altogether  intelligible.  It  has  been  suggested 
to  me  by  an  artist  that  though  it  composes  well  as  a  whole,  it  has 
the  air  of  being  cut  down  from  a  still  larger  picture,  for  it  would  be 
difficult  to  paint  the  elaborate  sleeve  on  the  right  in  its  present  bisected 
condition.     This  might  be  verified  by  examination  of  the  canvas. 


VELAZQUEZ  169 

repeated  in  the  "  Boar  Hunt."  It  is  possibly  a 
sketch  which  Velazquez  utilised  in  painting  the 
"  Boar  Hunt." 

To  make  the  Velazquez  collection  of  the 
National  Gallery  fully  representative  one  of  his 
beautiful  portraits  of  women  is  needed.  Here 
the  Louvre  is  more  fortunate,  but  London  also 
supplies  this  defect  of  the  National  Gallery  in 
the  most  adequate  manner,  for  in  the  "  Lady 
with  a  Fan  "  the  Wallace  Gallery  possesses  one 
of  the  best  of  his  women  portraits,  of  which  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire  also  owns  a  fine  version 
with  interesting  variations. 

It  has  seemed  worth  while  to  supplement  a 
general  study  of  Velazquez's  place  in  Spanish 
art,  and  among  the  manifestations  of  the  Spanish 
spirit,  by  a  more  detailed  discussion  of  an  im- 
portant group  of  pictures,  by  him  and  attri- 
buted to  him,  which  is  less  inaccessible  to  most 
than  the  Prado.  Velazquez  must  be  known 
intimately  to  be  known  at  all,  and  no  painter 
is  better  worth  knowing  intimately ;  none  is 
more  educative,  aesthetically,  intellectually,  one 
may  almost  add,  morally.  The  patient  study 
of  a  small  group  of  his  genuine  works,  the 
impartial  questioning  of  more  dubious  works, 
is  not  only  an  avenue  of  approach  to  the  most 
reserved  of  the  great  masters,  but  will  help  us 
to  estimate  aright  what  is  significant,  and  what 
is  insignificant,  in  much  of  modern  painting. 


VI 


SPANISH  DANCING 


It  is  not  always  agreeable  to  the  Spaniard  to 
find  that  dancing  is  regarded  by  the  foreigner 
as  a  peculiar  and  important  Spanish  institution. 
Even  Valera,  with  all  his  wide  culture,  could 
not  escape  this  feeling ;  in  a  review  of  a  book 
about  Spain  by  an  American  author,  entitled 
The  Land  of  the  Castanet — a  book  which  he 
recognised  as  full  of  appreciation  for  Spain — 
Valera  resented  the  title.  ^  It  is,  he  says,  as 
though  a  book  about  the  United  States  should 
be  called  The  Land  of  Bacon.  There  is,  it 
need    scarcely   be    said,    no    analogy.      Spanish 

^  Spanish  dancers,  although  the  best  among  them  receive  admiration 
and  homage  throughout  the  world,  are  a  little  looked  down  upon  in 
their  own  country,  almost  as  a  set  of  vagabonds,  mere  azotacalles^ 
They  always  remain,  however,  passionately  patriotic.  Guerrero, 
who  happened  to  be  performing  in  Vienna  at  the  time  of  King 
Alfonso's  visit,  spent,  it  is  said,  five  hundred  florins  on  violets  to 
scatter  in  the  King's  path,  and  made  herself  so  hoarse  with  shouting 
"Viva  el  E.ey  !  Viva  Espana  ! "  that  she  was  unable  to  sing  that 
night ;  a  somewhat  similar  story  is  told  of  Otero  during  the  King's 
visit  to  Berlin  ;  and  Tortajada  sings  : 

Patria  mia  !  io  te  adoro, 
Y  no  te  olvide  un  instaute  1 

170 


SPANISH  DANCING  171 

dancing  is  not  only  an  ever-delightful  memory, 
it  is  well  worth  study  for  the  light  it  throws  on 
the  Spanish  people,  their  ways,  and  their  spirit. 
It  is  not  surprising  to  find  Valera  himself,  in 
another  mood — in  the  very  latest  volume  of  his 
essays — expressing  regret  that  the  old  custom 
of  introducing  a  national  dance  on  the  stage, 
after  the  play,  has  died  out,  and  calling  for  a 
revival  of  "  the  highly  important  and  serious 
art  of  dancing." 

Yet  even  at  the  present  day  Spanish  dancing 
is  distinctive  ;  nothing  like  it  is  found  elsewhere. 
Nor  can  it  be  transplanted ;  the  Spanish  dancers 
who  go  abroad  usually  modify  their  methods  by 
infusing  them  with  French  or  other  traditions 
that  are  altogether  alien.  A  Spanish  dance 
seems  unable,  indeed,  to  survive  even  in  the 
atmosphere  of  another  province. 

While,  however,  the  dancing  of  Spain,  and 
more  especially  of  Andalusia,  has  long  been 
clearly  distinct  from  that  of  any  other  country, 
it  was  certainly  not  so  always.  Thus  castanets 
were  used  in  Greek  dancing,  as  vases  and 
figurines  show,  as  well  as  ancient  authors.^     In 


'  Athenaeus  (Bk.  xiv.  ch.  xl.)  discusses  castanets,  saying  tliat  they 
are  mentioned  by  Dicsearchus  in  his  essay  on  the  Manners  and 
Custovis  of  Oreece,  where  such  instruments  were  formerly  in  very 
frequent  use  to  accompany  women  while  dancing  and  singing,  as  is 
shown  by  a  hymn  to  Diana  which  speaks  of  singing  in  her  honour 

until 

My  comrade  strikes  with  nimble  hand, 
The  well-gilt,  brazeu-sounding  castanets. 


172  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Rome,  also,  castanets  were  employed,  though  they 
now  began  to  be  associated  with  Spain  rather 
than  with  Greece,  and  Martial  refers  to  "  Betica 
crusmata."  In  the  fourth  century  Macrobius^ 
says  that  formerly  even  noble  ladies  danced  with 
castanets,  but  that  now  there  were  no  dancing- 
girls  even  at  banquets ;  and  he  looks  upon  this 
— as  we  are  always  apt  to  when  we  throw  off  the 
customs  of  our  fathers,  however  decadent  our 
own  age  may  be — as  a  mark  of  progress. 

The  play  of  the  arms  and  hands,  the  side- 
ward turn,  the  extreme  backward  extension  of 
the  head  and  body,  movements  that  are  all  so 
peculiarly  Spanish,  are  yet  all  movements  of 
the  G-reek  dance.  ^  Even  the  active  participa- 
tion of  the  spectators  in  keeping  time  by  clap- 

Hermippus  also,  Athenseus  continues,  in  his  play,  The  Gods,  refers  to 
the  rattling  of  castanets  : 

And  beating  down  the  limpets  from  the  rocks, 
They  made  a  noise  like  castanets  ; 

while  Didymus  says  that  some  people  used  actual  oyster  -  shells  or 
cockle-shells  to  strike  against  each  other  in  tune  when  accompanying 
dances,  as  Aristophanes  also  intimates  in  his  Frogs. 

^  Macrobius,  Saturnalia,  iii.  13,  9. 

^  See,  e.g.,  Becker,  Der  Tanz,  pp.  49-53,  and  Emmanuel's  valuable 
and  detailed  study,  La  Danse  Greeque  Antique.  In  an  excellent 
summary  of  the  characteristics  of  Greek  dancing  Marcelle  Hincks 
states  ("The  Dance  in  Ancient  Greece,"  Nineteenth  Century,  March 
1906)  that  it  was  "pantomimic.  It  is  the  imitation  of  words  by 
gestures,  the  bodily  expression  of  a  feeling  ;  it  comprises  every  variety 
of  action,  quick  and  slow  ;  it  deals  with  every  subject,  grave  and  gay, 
religious  and  profane,  decorous  and  indecorous  ;  nothing  in  nature  is 
too  high  or  too  low  to  be  outside  its  scope  ;  it  embraces  the  whole 
scale  of  human  passions. " 


SPANISH   DANCING  173 

ping  their  hands,  so  significant  a  feature  of 
Spanish  dancing,  seems  also  to  be  a  survival 
of  Greek  dancing.  Indeed,  in  this  marvellously 
conservative  and  tenacious  land  of  Spain,  a  kin- 
ship with  ancient  Greece  is  preserved  even  in 
the  costume.  One  of  the  commonest  types 
among  the  Greek  figurines,  certainly  represent- 
ing the  average  Greek  lady,  might  be  supposed 
to  represent  a  Spanish  lady,  so  closely  do  the 
fan,  the  dress,  the  mantilla-like  covering  of  the 
head,  the  erect  and  dignified  carriage,  recall 
modern  Spain. 

This  afiinity  of  Spanish  dancing  is  not, 
however,  merely  Greek,  it  is  still  wider.  It 
is  part  of  that  afiinity  of  Spain  with  North 
Africa  which  is  in  other  respects  so  important. 
As  we  may  see  in  Egyptian  monuments,  the 
movements  of  Spanish  dances  resemble  those  of 
ancient  Egypt,  and  Martial  coupled  Gaditanian 
song- dances  with  those  of  the  Nile.  The 
stringed  instruments  of  North  Africa  resemble 
those  of  Spain,  and  the  cymbals  attached  by  a 
cord — as  used  by  peasants  in  the  country  for 
serenading  at  weddings — which  I  have  picked 
up  among  the  old  metal  objects  on  a  stall  of 
the  market  in  the  dry  river-bed  at  Malaga, 
exactly  resemble  the  cymbals  used  two  thousand 
year  ago  by  Ankh-Hapi,  musician  in  one  of  the 
temples  of  Thebes,  and  placed  on  his  body  after 
death,  where  they  still  lie  in  the  glass  case  at 


174  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

the  British  Museum  which  is  the  final  resting- 
place  of  his  mummy.^ 

While  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that 
dancing  resembling  that  which  still  persists  in 
Spain  was  in  remote  ages  widely  spread  around 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  it  is  evident 
that  even  two  thousand  years  ago  Spain  was 
already  the  pre-eminent  centre  of  dancing  on 
the  Mediterranean.  The  Romans  went  above 
all  to  Spain,  and  especially  Gades — the  modern 
Cadiz — for  the  dancing-girls  whom  they  esteemed 
so  highly.  The  famous  statue  of  the  so-called 
Venus  Callipyge,  representing  a  woman  who 
turns  her  head  round  as  she  bends  backward, 
is  not,  as  the  name  and  pose  might  suggest,  a 
representation  of  self-admiration,  but  undoubt- 
edly the  image  of  a  Cadiz  dancer  in  a  charac- 
teristic movement  of  a  Spanish  dance.  ^ 

It  is  natural  to  inquire  why  it  is  that  the 
ancient  dances  of  the  Mediterranean  should  show 
such    persistence    in    Spain,    and    especially    in 

^  still  farther  south,  in  Negro  Africa,  we  find  some  of  the  same 
aifinities.  The  dancing  of  Swabili  women  recalls  in  some  respects 
flamenco-dancing,  and  the  Fang  of  the  Congo  in  their  dances  use 
mollusc  shells  tied  round  their  ankles  as  a  sort  of  castanets. 

^  The  women  of  Cadiz  maintained  their  reputation  in  this  respect 
down  to  modern  times.  At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  Peyron 
found  that  they  were  celebrated  for  their  seductive  and  voluptuous 
dances,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  same  century  Marti  stated  that 
the  most  virtuous  and  high-born  ladies  of  Cadiz  would  dance  the 
fandango  amid  general  applause.  Baretti  in  1770  described  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  all  classes  of  Spaniards  danced,  and  mentions 
that  dancing  was  encouraged  by  the  clergy  in  the  interests  of  morality. 


SPANISH  DANCING  175 

Andalusia.  In  part  the  answer  has  already  l)ecn 
suggested  ;  it  is  due  largely  to  natural  gift  and 
to  the  peculiarly  tenacious  and  conservative 
character  of  the  Spanish  temperament.  There 
is,  however,  at  least  one  other  cause,  and  that 
is  the  presence  of  gipsies  in  Spain.  Dancing, 
and  especially  what  is  called  flamenco-dancing,^ 
is  so  often  the  occupation  of  gipsies  in  Spain, 
that  a  belief  widely  prevails  that  to  some 
extent  Spanish  dances  are  really  gipsy  dances. 
This  is  a  mistake.  The  gipsies  brought  with 
them  from  India  neither  dances  nor  music. 
The  so-called  "  gipsy "  dances  of  Spain  are 
Spanish  dances  which  the  Spaniards  are  tending 
to  relinquish  but  which  the  gipsies  have  taken 
up  with  energy  and  skill.  At  this  point  we 
touch  upon  a  very  interesting  phenomenon,  the 
prominent  place  occupied  by  the  gipsies  in  Spain. 
The  gipsies  are  an  exotic  race  in  Europe,  and 
for  the  most  part  they  are  entirely  outside  the 
national  life  of  the  countries  in  which  they  live 
and  through  which  they  move  as  strangers  and 

1  It  is  not  quite  obvious  why  the  gipsy  should  be  called  aflamfMco, 
or  Spanish  soldier  returned  from  the  wars  in  Flanders.  Salillas 
{Eampa,  p.  54)  believes  that  in  the  later  and  less  glorious  period 
of  the  war  in  the  Low  Countries,  the  soldier  came  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  rowdy,  boastful,  dissipated  type,  and  the  flavunco,  as  he  was 
called,  degenerated  into  a  worthless  braggart,  only  to  be  coupled  and 
at  last  confounded  with  the  ^'caro  and  the  gipsy.  If,  I  may  add,  the 
Spanish  soldier  who  had  been  to  the  wars  made  this  impression  even 
ou  his  own  countrymen,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  should  play  a 
somewhat  similar  part  in  French  and  English  literature. 


176  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

nomads.  It  is  so  in  England  and  in  France. 
But  there  are  certain  peoples  in  Europe  with 
whom,  on  one  side  of  their  temperament,  the 
gipsies,  by  virtue  of  a  common  nervous  tem- 
perament, are  able  to  come  into  sympathetic 
contact.  It  is  so  in  Russia,  and  Liszt  wrote 
an  oft-quoted  description  of  the  intoxication  of 
the  gipsy  music  in  a  Russian  festival ;  it  is  so 
in  Hungary,  where  the  music  of  the  gipsies  has 
become  famous.  And  so  also  it  is  in  Spain, 
where  the  gitano  has  seized  on  the  ancient 
Spanish  dances  with  such  zeal,  and  danced 
them  with  such  fire  and  success,  though  some- 
times with  a  touch  of  caricature,  that  many 
people  have  come  to  think  that  the  dances  are 
not  Spanish  at  all  but  gipsy.  In  all  these 
countries  the  gipsy  has  been  attracted  by  certain 
congenial  manifestations  in  the  life  of  a  nation, 
mastered  them  and  specialised  them,  and  so 
become  on  that  side  an  appreciated  element  in 
the  life  of  the  people. 

In  Spain,  as  Salillas  shows,  there  is  a  special 
affinity  between  the  gipsy  and  the  Andalusian 
in  the  latter's  nomadic  tendency,  in  his  social 
parasitism,  in  his  delight  in  music  and  motion.^ 
Thus  it  is  that  the  gipsy  falls  into  line  with  the 
Andalusian  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  social  scale, 

^  The  problem  presented  by  the  Spanish  gipsies  has  been  studied 
with  much  knowledge  and  insight  by  the  sociologist  Salillas  {Hampa, 
pp.  90-111,  307). 


SPANISH  DANCING  177 

and  as  the  old  social  customs  sink  more  and  more 
into  disrepute  and  to  an  ever  lower  class,  they  are 
seized  on  by  the  gipsies  with  much  energy  and 
with  no  false  shame,  the  gipsies  not  being  amen- 
able to  those  ideals  of  respectability  which  afifect 
a  genuinely  European  population  even  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  scale.  Dancing,  at  all  events 
in  its  more  ancient  and  characteristic  modes,  is 
one  of  the  customs  that  are  falling  into  disrepute  ; 
it  is  no  longer  fashionable ;  it  is  chiefly  enjoyed 
by  the  poorest  classes ;  the  best  cafes  cantantes 
are  hidden  away  in  back  streets.  The  most  ex- 
quisite dancing  may  sometimes  be  found  only 
after  many  months,  because  no  one  thinks  of 
mentioning  it.  Such,  for  instance,  was  my  ex- 
perience as  regards  the  Chinitas  at  Malaga  some 
years  ago.  Here,  efi"ectually  concealed  in  a  mal- 
odorous alley  near  the  Plaza,  one  went  upstairs 
to  a  charming  old-world  haunt,  a  scene  as  from 
a  seventeenth  century  Dutch  picture,  in  which, 
on  the  tiniest  of  stages  and  in  the  presence 
of  an  intensely  serious  and  entirely  national 
audience — while  guardian  mothers  and  aunts 
of  the  performers  sat  solemnly  around — some  of 
the  most  accomplished  dancers  of  Spain  danced 
in  their  beautiful  Manila  shawls  never-ending 
cycles  of  characteristically  Spanish  dances.  Since 
then,  I  hear,  the  Chinitas,  under  some  pretext, 
has  been  shut  up  and  swept  away  by  the  zealous 
Spaniards,  eager  to  join  in  the  march  of  civilisa- 


178  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

tion,  for  it  is  so  mucli  easier  to  pull  down  than  to 
build  up.  Tlie  Chinitas  may  possibly  have  been 
the  last  of  its  class  in  Spain.  Nowadays  the 
Spaniard  prefers  places  of  amusement  which 
vacillate  between  the  French  cafe  chantant  and 
the  English  music-hall ;  they  abound  in  Madrid 
and  flourish  exuberantly  in  Barcelona,  though 
in  Bilbao  they  seem  to  have  no  existence.  At 
all  of  them,  among  miscellaneous  cosmopolitan 
items,  one  may  find  Spanish  dancers,  good,  bad, 
or  indifferent,  more  or  less  characteristic ;  the 
best,  naturally,  are  to  be  found  in  Seville,  chiefly 
at  the  Novedades,  now  one  of  the  oldest  of  these 
places  of  amusement  in  Spain. 

The  special  characteristics  of  Spanish  dancing 
may  best  be  explained  by  describing  its  more 
general  features. 

If  we  consider  dancing  as  it  takes  place 
throughout  the  world  generally,  it  may  be  said  that 
there  are  three  different  kinds,  according  as  the 
performance  is  mainly  entrusted  to  three  diff'erent 
regions  of  the  body.  There  is  the  dancing  in 
which  the  legs  are  the  chief  performers ;  this 
prevails  in  Europe  generally,  as  well  as  in  many 
other  parts  of  the  world,  and  may  be  said  to  be 
the  only  kind  of  dancing  recognised  in  England 
and  in  France  ;  its  most  pronounced  form  is 
seen  in  the  orthodox  ballet.  Then  there  is  the 
dancing  which  is  performed  solely  by  the  arms 
and  hands ;  this  kind  of  dancing  is  carried  to  a 


SPANISH   DANCING  179 

high  degree  of  perfection  by  the  Javanese,  and 
also  prevails  in  Japan.  Finally,  there  is  the 
dancing  in  which  the  muscles  of  the  body  itself 
play  the  chief  part ;  this  is  found  mainly  in  Africa 
and  western  Asia.  Spanish  dancing  cannot  be 
said  to  belong  to  any  one  of  these  three  groups, 
because  it  really  includes  them  all.  When  one 
watches  an  accomplished  Spanish  dancer,  it  is 
seen  that  every  part  of  the  body  at  some  moment 
takes  its  share  in  the  performance — the  head,  the 
hands,  the  arms,  even  the  muscles  of  the  body. 
The  legs  in  some  dances  play  an  energetic  part, 
but  more  often  a  subdued  part.  The  feet  occupy 
perhaps  the  smallest  conscious  place,  and  in  this 
the  Italian  ballet-dancer  may  be  said  to  be  the 
complement  to  the  Spanish  dancer,  for  there  we 
sometimes  seem  to  see  nothing  but  marvellously 
accomplished  feet  supporting  a  wooden  marion- 
ette. In  an  art  which  thus  has  so  wide  a  range 
of  expression,  bringing  within  its  sphere  the 
whole  body,  it  might  be  thought  that  strict 
dancing  could  too  easily  degenerate  into  licence. 
Occasionally  this  is  so,  but  not  often,  although 
when  the  dancer  is  a  gipsy  the  dance  may  take 
on  a  character  of  almost  ferocious  intensity. 
Spanish  dancing  is  saved  by  the  special  tem- 
perament of  the  Spaniard,  especially  when  com- 
bined, as  that  temperament  is  in  the  Sevillian, 
with  aesthetic  sensitiveness.  The  instinctive 
dignity   and  self-respect,   the  profound  love  of 


180  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

decorum  and  beautiful  ritual,  which  the  Spaniard 
displays  in  his  religious  functions,  and  even  in 
the  bull-fight,  become  visible  in  dancing  also. 
Much  of  this  dancing  may  be  said  to  be  a 
symbolised  and  idealised  representation  of  the 
drama  of  love,  but  the  sustained  solemnity  and 
decorum  of  it  carry  the  performers  through  even 
those  brief  moments  of  the  dance  which  in  any 
other  European  country  would  threaten  to  fall 
to  the  level  of  vulgarity. 

Another  characteristic  of  Spanish  dancing, 
and  especially  of  the  most  typical  kind,  called 
flamenco,  lies  in  its  accompaniments,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  fact  that  under  proper  conditions 
all  the  spectators  are  themselves  performers. 
In  flamenco  dancing,  among  an  audience  of  the 
people,  every  one  takes  a  part,  by  rhythmic 
clapping  and  stamping,  and  by  the  occasional 
prolonged  "  oles  "  and  other  cries  by  which  the 
dancer  is  encouraged  or  applauded.  Thus  the 
dance  is  not  a  spectacle  for  the  amusement  of  a 
languid  and  passive  public,  as  with  us.  It  is 
rather  the  visible  embodiment  of  an  emotion  in 
which  every  spectator  himself  takes  an  active 
and  helpful  part ;  it  is,  as  it  were,  a  vision 
evoked  by  the  spectators  themselves  and  up- 
borne on  the  continuous  waves  of  rhythmical 
sound  which  they  generate.  Thus  it  is  that  at 
the  end  of  a  dance  an  absolute  silence  often 
falls,  with  no  sound  of  applause  :  the  relation  of 


SPANISH  DANCING  181 

performer  and  public  has  ceased  to  exist.  So 
personal  is  this  dancing  that  it  may  be  said  that 
an  intimate  association  with  the  spectators  is 
required  for  its  full  manifestation.  The  finest 
Spanish  dancing  is  at  once  killed  or  degraded  by 
the  presence  of  an  indifferent  or  unsympathetic 
public,  and  that  is  probably  why  it  cannot  be 
transplanted,  but  remains  local. 

The  varieties  of  dancing  in  Spain  are 
numerous,  and  the  array  of  names  of  dances 
long  and  puzzling.  It  is  difficult  to  make  out 
many  of  these  varieties.  Dancing  in  Sj)ain  is 
now  a  matter  which  few  know  anything  about, 
because  every  one  takes  for  granted  that  he 
knows  all  about  it ;  and  any  question  on  the 
subject  generally  receives  a  very  ready  answer 
which  is  usually  of  questionable  correctness. 
Nor  can  it  be  said  that  there  is  any  literature 
to  supply  the  defect  of  popular  knowledge.^  In 
any  case,  however,  it  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to 
discuss  here  the  technical  characteristics  of  the 
various  dances.  Some  certainly  have  a  local 
existence  dating  very  far  back  into  antiquity ; 

1  I  have  uot  been  able  to  see  the  Reglcut  Utiles  published  by  Ferriol 
y  Boxeraus  in  1745.  There  are  interesting  notes  on  dancing  in 
Soriano  Fuertes's  Historia  de  la  Musica  Espaflola,  vol.  i.  ch.  vi.  Ford's 
Hatidbook  to  Spain  (1845,  vol.  i.  pp.  186-193)  contains  some  useful  notes 
which  in  the  more  popular  Gatherings  are  abbreviated.  In  the  Escenas 
Atidaluzas  (1847)  of  Estebanez  Calderon — a  writer  of  pungently 
national  style  and  enthusiastic  national  interests — will  be  found 
several  sketches  describing  and  discussing  Spanish  dancing.  As 
regards  the  deeper  significance  of  Spanish  dancing,  notliing  is  equal 
to  the  psychological  analysis  given  by  Salillas  in  Hatnpa  (1898). 


182  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

some  owe  much  of  their  character  to  Arab 
influences ;  many  were  invented  in  the  six- 
teenth, seventeenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
although  these  were  nearly  always  modifications 
of  existing  dances,  like  the  sixteenth  century 
saraband,  which  had  an  ancient  Gaditanian 
character,  and  in  later  days  was  transformed 
into  the  ole ;  others,  again,  came  in  more  recent 
times  from  the  Spanish  West  Indian  colonies 
and  betray  negro  influence,  but  these  never 
became  acclimatised  in  Spain  until  they  had 
received  the  characteristic  mark  of  the  sober 
and  gracious  Sevillian  manner,  tempering  their 
exuberance  and  rendering  them  truly  national. 

While,  however,  there  seem  to  be  much 
uncertainty,  fluctuation,  and  decay  among  many 
of  the  individual  Spanish  dances,  certain  varie- 
ties stand  out  as  clearly  and  permanently  de- 
fined. This  is  above  all  the  case  with  the 
Aragonese  jota,  the  most  important  and  typical 
dance  outside  Andalusia.  It  is  danced  by  a 
man  and  a  woman,  and  is  a  kind  of  combat 
between  them ;  most  of  the  time  they  are  facing 
each  other,  both  using  the  castanets  and  ad- 
vancing and  retreating  in  an  apparently  aggres- 
sive manner,  the  arms  alternately  slightly  raised 
and  lowered,  and  the  legs,  with  a  seeming  at- 
tempt to  trip  the  partner,  kicking  out  alter- 
nately somewhat  sidewise,  as  the  body  is  rapidly 
supported   first   on    one  foot  and   then   on  the 


SPANISH  DANCING  183 

other.  It  is  a  monotonous  dance,  with  immense 
rapidity  and  vivacity  in  its  monotony,  but  it 
has  not  the  deliberate  grace  and  fascination, 
the  happy  audacities,  of  Andalusian  dancing. 
There  is,  indeed,  no  faintest  suggestion  of 
voluptuousness  in  it,  but  it  may  rather  be  said, 
in  the  words  of  a  modern  poet,  Salvador  Rueda, 
to  have  in  it  "  the  sound  of  helmets  and  plumes 
and  lances  and  banners,  the  roaring  of  cannon, 
the  neighing  of  horses,  the  shock  of  swords."^ 

Very  different  from  the  Aragonese  jota,  with 
the  dazzling,  monotonous  glitter  of  its  sustained 
movement  of  arms  and  legs  and  garments,  is  an 
Andalusian  dance  which  is  sometimes  also  called 
a  jota.  It  is  a  long  dance,  with  many  variations 
in  its  course,  danced  by  one  woman  alone,  to  a 
marchlike,  quiet,  simple  tune,  which  is  yet  a 
very  impressive  accompaniment,  because  it  sug- 
gests a  kind  of  overawed  subordination  to  the 
passionate  intensity  of  the  dance.  The  body  is 
at  times  bent  back  and,  as  it  were,  semi-revolved 
on  the  axis  of  the  hips ;  sometimes  the  dancer 
sinks  backward,  bending  her  head  to  the  floor ; 

1  Salillas  {Hampa,  p.  96)  finds  that  the  Aragonese  jota  is  the 
intimate  translation  of  Aragonese  personal  activity.  The  Aragonese 
walk,  he  says,  is  characterised  by  its  exaggerated  verticality,  its 
resolute  and  rather  rigid  straightforwardness,  with  head  maintained 
in  a  correct  line  with  tlie  trunk,  and  a  comparative  absence  of  all 
those  lateral  movements  of  shoulders  and  spine  and  hips  which  give 
grace  to  the  figure.  "And  this  is  translated  into  the  dance.  They 
dance  as  they  walk,  they  walk  as  they  sing,  they  sing  as  they 
think." 


184  THE   SOUL   OF  SPAIN 

at  one  point  the  dance  becomes  swift  and  des- 
perate, and  the  dancer  flings  her  legs  high  in 
the  air,  madly  and  rapidly.  But  there  is  yet 
a  gravity  and  intensity  throughout,  a  kind  of 
dramatic  progression,  a  possibility  of  personal, 
individual  character,  which  makes  this  the  most 
fascinating  of  castanet  dances. 

Not  the  least  attractive  dances,  w^hen  per- 
formed by  a  charming  and  accomplished  dancer 
— though  to  the  stranger  they  sometimes  seem 
mere  wriggling  and  contortion — are  the  flamenco 
or  so-called  gipsy  dances,  which  are  really  the 
most  primitive  and  African  of  all.  Here  the 
castanets  are  replaced  by  the  rhythmic  clapping 
or  stamping  of  the  assistants,  the  music  of  the 
guitar,  and  by  one  singer — a  man  or  a  woman 
whose  part  in  the  performance  is  limited  to  this 
accompanying  song.  The  music  begins  first, 
and  the  rhythmic  clapping;  then  after  a  few 
moments,  as  the  sound  rises  in  intensity,  one  of 
the  semicircle  of  performers,  as  though  suddenly 
seized  by  the  bacchante -like  fury  of  dancing, 
leaps  up,  comes  to  the  centre  of  the  semicircle, 
and  begins  to  dance.  In  this  dance,  which  on 
the  whole  is  slow,  there  is  room  for  infinite 
personal  modification  and  expression,  and  no 
two  dancers  move  quite  alike.  The  dresses  are 
long,  there  is  no  high  kicking,  yet  every  normal 
movement  of  the  body  is-  harmoniously  dis- 
played in  the  course  of  the  dance.     Sometimes 


SPANISH  DANCING  185 

the  dancer  is  facing  the  spectators,  sometimes 
she  is  siclewise,  sometimes  her  back  is  to  the 
spectators,  always  in  order  to  display  more  fully 
this  perpetual  dance  of  the  whole  body,  of  legs 
and  arms  and  hands  and  head,  even  the  varying 
movements  of  the  face,  the  whole  often  aided 
by  the  swaying  of  the  beautiful  Manila  shawl 
which  is  usually  worn.  The  dance  thus  even 
includes,  in  the  more  expert  performers,  the 
rhythmic  movement  of  various  parts  of  the 
body,  but  these  episodes  are  of  very  brief 
duration — each  occurring  only  once  and  for  a 
few  seconds — and  they  are  invariably  introduced 
with  a  charming  deprecatory  smile,  as  though 
the  dancer  said,  "  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive  me 
if  I  show  you  that  I  know  this  intimate  little 
secret  of  good  dancing,"  and  immediately  the 
dancer  passes  on  to  the  next  phase  of  the 
dance,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  that  these 
episodes  are  anything  but  perfectly  correct  and 
harmonious  elements  in  a  dance  which  would  be 
incomplete  if  it  were  not  to  display  the  aptitude 
for  beautiful  rhythmic  movement  which  every 
part  of  the  body  possesses.  All  the  while  the 
dancer  is  surrounded  by  the  waves  of  loud 
sound  produced  by  the  hands,  feet,  voices,  and 
instruments  of  the  assistants,  whose  sudden 
cries  seem  intended  to  stimulate  and  support 
her,  and  she  herself  claps  rhythmically  but 
softly  from  time  to  time.     Each  dance  is  made 


186  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

up  of  two  parts,  separated  by  a  lull,  without 
actual  cessation,  but  the  two  parts  are  not 
greatly  distinct,  and  the  conclusion  of  the 
dance  is  generally  quiet,  with  no  marked 
climax. 

Spaniards,  I  may  remark,  are  peculiarly  fasci- 
nated by  sound,  especially  by  the  loud,  stridulous, 
rhythmic  classes  of  sound  which  may  be  said  to 
come  midway  between  mere  noise  and  music.  It 
is  an  intoxicant  which  they  indulge  in  more  in- 
temperately  than  they  do  in  wine.  On  people 
of  an  essentially  grave  and  silent  race,  loud 
sound  seems  sometimes  apt  to  exert  this  stimu- 
lating influence,  and  to  carry  them  out  of 
themselves.  In  this  they  resemble  savages. 
Castanets  are  nothing  but  a  very  primitive 
device  for  producing  loud,  rhythmic  sound,  and 
all  sound  of  this  type  appeals  to  the  Spaniard. 
The  revolving  rattle,  again — such  as  in  the  days 
of  our  forefathers  was  supplied  to  night-watch- 
men—  is  a  favourite  Spanish  implement  of 
sound,  if  one  may  judge  by  the  frequency  with 
which  it  is  sold  in  the  streets  of  Madrid  and 
elsewhere.  The  Spanish  are,  perhaps,  the  only 
audiences  in  Europe  who  still  talk  loudly  and 
persistently  during  a  concert ;  the  music  seems 
to  be  to  them  an  irresistible  stimulant  to  activity, 
and  perhaps  chiefly  delightful  on  that  account. 
This  impressionability  of  the  Spaniards  to  loud 
rhythmic  sound   explains   how  it  is  that  such 


SPANISH  DANCING  187 

sound  is  an  essential  element  in  their  character- 
istic dances. 

I  have  spoken  of  Spanish  dancing  mainly, 
not  as  it  may  still  be  seen,  usually  in  a  rather 
amateurish  form,  among  country  people,  but  as 
it  is  executed,  in  its  finest  varieties,  by  those 
accomplished  professional  dancers,  now  few  in 
number,  whom  one  may  sometimes  have  the 
good  fortune  to  see  in  some  of  the  larger  cities, 
especially  Seville,  Malaga,  Granada,  and  Madrid. 
I  have  myself  been  most  fortunate  at  Malaga, 
though  the  dancers  there  were  chiefly  Sevillians; 
Cadiz  still  produces  a  few  dancers,  but  they  have 
not  the  fame  of  the  Gaditanian  dancers  of  two 
thousand  years  ago,  nor  is  there  now  any  public 
dancing  to  be  seen  at  Cadiz. 

While,  however,  the  professional  dancers 
most  clearly  maintain  the  ancient  traditions, 
dancing  still  remains  a  universal  instinct  with 
Spanish  women.^  In  Madrid,  once,  I  even  saw 
in  the  street  a  girl  of  some  twelve  years  who, 
although  she  was  carrying  her  baby  brother, 
yet  contrived  at  the  same  time  not  only  to 
execute  crude  dance- movements,  but  even  to 
use  the  castanets  with  both  hands.  The  great 
annual  Feria  at  Seville  is  largely  an  orgy  of 
dancing.     As  evening  approaches  on  these  days, 

^  Anna  de  Camargo — an  epoch-making  figure  iu  the  history  of  the 
European  ballet,  and  to  whom  is  said  to  be  due  the  introduction  both 
of  the  short  skirt  and  the  entrechat — was  a  Spaniard. 


188  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

everywhere  one  begins  to  hear  the  sound  of 
castanets  and  to  see  the  gracious  movements  of 
the  seguidilla,  the  universal  Andalusian  dance 
which  all  children  are  taught,  and  which  they 
often  dance  up  to  old  age.  "Take  away  the 
charm  of  this  Andalusian  dance  from  the  Feria," 
a  Spanish  writer  remarks,  "and  you  have  de- 
prived the  Sevillian  festival  of  that  essential 
and  typical  something  which  makes  it  live."  I 
have  heard  of  a  young  girl  who  through  too 
much  dancing  at  this  great  festival  was  said  to 
have  acquired  St.  Vitus's  dance,  and  could  never 
cease  dancing.  Nor  is  it  by  any  means  only  at 
a  "fiesta"  that  Spaniards  dance.  As  we  get 
away  from  the  cities,  we  are  constantly  able  to 
observe  the  hold  which  dancing  still  has  on  the 
people,  and  not  only  in  Andalusia. 

But  the  fundamental  instincts  of  the  Spaniard 
for  dancing,  and  the  serious  and  profound  way 
in  which  it  expresses  the  temperament  of  the 
people,  are  perhaps  shown  by  nothing  else  so 
much  as  by  the  existence  of  religious  dancing  in 
Spain.  In  1321  the  Bishop  of  Lerida  complained 
of  the  dancing  that  took  place  in  churches  and 
cemeteries.  Even  at  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  of 
Monserrat  it  appears  that  the  pilgrims  sometimes 
sang  and  danced  during  their  vigils.  At  the  time 
of  St.  Thomas  of  Villanueva,  Bishop  of  Valencia, 
it  was  still  customary  to  dance  before  the  sacred 
elements    in   the   churches   of   Seville,    Toledo, 


SPANISH   DANCING  189 

Jerez,  and  Valencia,  and  that  prelate  encouraged 
such  dancing  in  spite  of  the  prohibition  of  the 
Pope  of  the  day.  Religious  dancing  continued 
to  be  common,  especially  in  Catalonia  and  in 
Roussillon  (the  most  Spanish  of  the  French 
provinces),  up  to  the  seventeenth  century. 
When  Cervantes's  little  gipsy  entered  Madrid  on 
St.  Anne's  Day  she  went  into  St.  Mary's  church 
with  her  tambourine  to  dance  before  the  saint's 
image  and  to  sing  a  hymn.  The  Villanicos  de 
Natividad,  a  sort  of  Christmas  carols,  are  still 
sung  to  the  tune  of  seguidillas.  But  a  real  and 
unique  survival  of  religious  dancing  (doubtless 
continued  in  virtue  of  a  special  bull  of 
Eugenius  IV.,  which  authorised  it  in  1439)  is 
the  dance  of  the  seises  in  Seville  Cathedral,  where, 
on  certain  special  festivals,  the  choristers,  wear- 
ing the  same  costume  as  they  wore  three  hundred 
years  ago,  perform  a  dance  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  castanets  in  the  space  between  the  high 
altar  and  the  choir. ^ 

Dancing  is  something  more  than  an  amuse- 
ment in  Spain.  It  is  part  of  that  solemn  ritual 
which  enters  into  the  whole  life  of  the  people. 
It  expresses  their  very  spirit.     Thus  it  is  that 

'  A  full  account  of  the  seises  (of  whom  there  are  really  ten)  is 
given  in  Los  Usjyanoles  Pintados  por  si  mismos  (1851,  pp.  287-291),  a 
book  that  contains  many  curious  details  regarding  Spanish  institutions. 
The  dance  takes  place  at  the  octave  of  the  Conception,  at  Corpus 
Ghristi,  and  during  the  carnival,  and  consists  of  various  simple 
movements,  danced  in  undulating  line,  in  a  waltzing  step. 


190  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

when  we  have  left  Spain  and  recall  our  memories 
of  the  land,  the  dancing  that  we  have  seen  there 
sometimes  seems  among  the  most  persistent  of 
those  memories  and  the  most  permanently 
delightful. 


VII 
KAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA 


For  most  people,  probably,  Eamon  Lull  is  little 
more  than  a  romantic  name.  We  vaguely  recall 
a  remote  mediaeval  figure,  at  once  troubadour 
and  alchemist  and  saint,  or  perhaps  we  remember 
one  of  the  legends  which  grow  up  so  easily  and 
flourish  so  persistently  around  every  great 
personality  of  the  far  past. 

During  recent  years,  however,  after  an 
interval  of  six  centuries,  the  figure  of  Eamon 
Lull  has  for  the  first  time  begun  to  assume 
reality  and  definition.  His  authentic  as  dis- 
tinguished from  his  spurious  works  are  appearing 
in  a  critical  modern  edition,  while  the  extra- 
ordinary significance  of  the  man  and  his  work 
are  being  made  clear  through  the  investigations 
of  scholars.'      Lull    now    stands    forth    as   so 

^  It  is  not,    indeed,   only  as   students    tliat    Spaniards    approach 
Ramon    Lull    to-day.      Among    the    Catalan    regionalists,    eager    to 

191 


192  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

splendid  a  pioneer  and  initiator  in  so  many 
fields  that  we  can  well  understand  the  enthusi- 
astic verdict  of  those  who  declare  that  he  is  the 
most  remarkable  figure  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
For  the  philologist  he  is  the  first  of  Catalan 
poets.  In  philosophy  he  is  the  great  Spanish 
schoolman,  a  daring  and  original  thinker.  In 
religion  he  is  on  the  spiritual  side  the  founder  of 
Spanish  mysticism,  the  father  of  all  the  Spanish 
and  many  of  the  later  European  mystics,  and  on 
the  practical  side  the  finest  type  of  the  modern 
missionary,  admiring  and  learning  from  those  he 
seeks  to  convert,  even  though  he  dies  for  his 
own  faith.  But  beyond  and  through  all  these 
various  aspects  he  was  a  Spaniard  of  Spaniards. 
It  is  from  that  side  that  I  wish  to  approach  him, 
for  if  we  succeed  in  grasping  the  character  of 
Ramon  Lull  we  touch  the  very  essence  of  the 
Spanish  genius,  and  we  realise  the  nature  of  the 
part  which  that  genius  has  played  in  human 
civilisation. 

II 

For  many  years  I  had  been  haunted  by  the 
vision  of  the  Balearic  Islands,  an  earthly  para- 
emphasise  all  the  ancient  signs  of  their  national  life,  there  is  a  move- 
ment of  return  to  Lull's  teaching.  An  account  of  this  modern  revival 
of  Lullian  philosophy  is  given  by  Palacios  ("El  Lulismo  Exagerado," 
Cultura  JEspartola,  1906,  ii.  p.  533),  audit  finds  enthusiastic  expression 
in  a  volume  in  Catalan  entitled  Homenatge  al  Beat  Ramon  Lhill  (1901), 
to  which  the  chief  Catalan  writers  of  the  day  contributed. 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     193 

dise,   I   was   told,   which   even  for  the  Spanish 
visitor  has  something  strange  and  exotic  about 
It.     Not  the  least  charm  of  Majorca  in  my  eyes 
was  that  it  had  been  the  home  of  Eamon  Lull 
and  when  at  last  I  embarked  at  Barcelona  for 
Palma,  it  was  by  a  curious  coincidence  on  the 
steamship  Lulio,  which  bears  witness  to  the  fame 
the  romantic  figure  of  the  mediaeval  schoolman 
still  possesses  among  his  fellow-countrymen.    As 
we  left  Barcelona  the  palms  along  the  Paseo  de 
Colon  began  to  sway  and  rustle  as  I  had  never 
known  them  to  before  ;  a  great  gale  raged  during 
the  night,  and  when  in  the  morning  we  reached 
the  wharf  at  Palma,  a  soft  misty  rain  veiled  the 
landscape. 

The  first  and  perhaps  the  most  abidino-  im- 
pression made  by  Palma  is  its  Moorish  aspect. 
This  characteristic  is  not  due  to  the  presence  of 
any  important  Moorish  antiquities  such  as  we  find 
at  Granada  and  Seville.    Perhaps,  indeed,  it  might 
altogether  escape  a  visitor  who  is  not  familiar 
with  Morocco.    But  it  is  none  the  less  real  because 
It  IS  subtle,  and  it  seems  to  extend  to  innumerable 
details  of  life.     I  know  no  city  in  Christendom 
which   so   subtly   suggests    the    persistence    of 
Moorish    mfluence.      At   Granada,    which    owns 
the  most  perfect   relic   of  Moorish  art,  one   is 
conscious  of  a  sudden  break  in  the  history  of  the 
city;    we   feel   everywhere   the  presence  of  the 
fierce  contest  which  resulted  in  the  triumph  of 


194  THE    SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

the  Christian,  the  expulsion  of  the  Moor,  and 
the  contemptuous  trampling  down  of  all  that  he 
had  counted  sacred.  In  Palma  we  are  conscious 
of  no  such  break ;  the  old  Moorish  traditions 
seem  to  have  blended  gently  and  imperceptibly 
with  the  new  Christian  traditions.  We  see  the 
persistence  of  Moorish  influence  very  significantly, 
for  instance,  in  the  flat  roofs  on  which  the  women 
congregate  when  their  work  is  done,  in  the 
latticed  galleries  in  the  churches,  in  the  universal 
use  of  azulejo  tiles  for  the  staircases  of  the 
houses  and  wherever  else  they  can  be  introduced. 
More  significantly  still  we  can  see  the  Moor 
in  the  people  themselves.  Balearic  types,  as 
seen  in  Palma,  are  extremely  marked  and  con- 
siderably varied.  Racial  types  may  always  be 
best  studied  in  the  women  of  a  people,  and  it  is 
well  worth  while  to  watch  the  women  of  Palma. 
It  is  not  hard  to  find  women  of  all  degrees  of 
ugliness  in  Palma,  but  the  proportion  of  those 
who  are  beautiful  or  charming  or  sweet  seems 
to  me  unusually  large — though  this  was  not  the 
opinion  of  George  Sand,  always,  and  not  un- 
naturally, a  little  prejudiced  against  the  place. 
It  is  a  general  law,  verifiable  in  northern  and 
southern  hemispheres  alike,  that  islands  breed 
pretty  women,  and  this  rule  is  well  maintained 
by  Majorca.  The  definite  predominance  of  a 
single  type  of  beauty,  such  as  is  found  at  Aries, 
cannot  be  asserted  in  Palma.     There  is,  however, 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     195 

one  peculiarity  so  common  that  it  may  fairly  be 
called  characteristic  :  I  mean  a  curious  expression 
of  the  eyes  often  seen  here,  but  (so  far  as  I  have 
observed)  nowhere  on  the  mainland  of  Spain ; 
such  eyes  are  rather  dark,  usually  a  little  sunken, 
apparently  unseeing,  somewhat  as  if  they  had 
been  crying,  yet  sweet  and  tender — it  is  an 
appearance  which  seems  to  be  chiefly  due  to 
the  veil  of  dark  thick  lashes.  While  there  are 
women  with  very  dark,  long  North  African  faces 
here,  I  have  nowhere  in  Southern  Spain,  on  the 
other  hand,  seen  such  fair  women,  with  light, 
even  flaxen  hair — worn  in  long  plaits  down  the 
back — and  such  fair  complexions.  One  even 
sees,  as  seldom  in  Spain,  rosy  complexions  which 
remind  one  of  England,  though  blue  eyes  are  not 
common,  the  eyes  of  fair  women  here  being 
merely  mixed,  or,  as  we  commonly  term  it, 
grey.  Sometimes  the  faces  are  very  beautifully 
formed,  quite  classic  in  outline,  and  at  the  same 
time  sensitively  mobile  ;  these  generally  belong 
neither  to  the  very  fair  nor  the  very  dark  type, 
but  are  intermediate  in  character.  The  most 
beautiful,  distinguished,  and  sensitive  faces  often 
belong,  as  I  have  also  observed  in  Poland,  to  mere 
market-girls  ;  and  this  presence  of  an  aristocratic 
type  low  down  in  the  social  scale  is  the  sure 
index  to  a  very  ancient  civilisation.  Unlike 
Catalonian  women,  Mallorcan  women  are  often 
very  slender,  more  like  Provencal  people.     They 


196  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

are  active  and  quick  in  their  movements,  the 
rapid,  jerky,  business-like  walk  of  the  young 
women  up  and  down  the  fashionable  evening 
promenade,  the  Plaza  de  la  Constitucion,  is  quite 
English  ;  on  the  other  hand  many — and  notably 
those  who  wear  mantillas  and  preserve  Spanish 
habits — often  stand  and  move  with  exquisite 
grace  and  beauty. 

All  the  Balearic  qualities,  it  seems  to  me,  the 
whole  history  of  this  highly  composite  yet  ex- 
tremely individual  people,  are  imprinted  in  these 
characteristics  of  the  women  of  Palma.  One  of 
the  most  splendid  jewels  of  the  Mediterranean, 
Majorca  has  been  near  enough  to  the  mainland 
for  invasion  from  many  quarters,  it  has  been  far 
enough  for  independent  development  along  its 
own  wayward  lines.  Phoenicians  and  Car- 
thaginians, Greeks  and  Pomans,  Vandals  (though 
never  the  Goths)  and  the  Eastern  empire,  all  in 
turn  conquered  and  ruled,  before,  at  the  end  of 
the  eighth  century,  the  Moors  came  to  raise  the 
island  to  the  height  of  its  power,  and  to  leave  an 
ineffaceable  mark  on  its  population  and  its 
customs.  They  developed  here,  as  elsewhere 
in  Spain,  their  enlightened  civilisation,  their 
humanity,  their  love  of  the  arts,  their  sanitary 
scrupulousness,  their  agricultural  skill.  They 
cultivated,  indeed,  many  fruits  and  plants  which 
their  successors  even  to-day  have  neglected.  Thus 
the  date-palm,  which  in  the  seventeenth  century 


RAMON   LULL   AT  PALMA     197 

was  still  important  enough  to  give  the  capital  of 
Majorca  its  name  (previously  it  had  the  same 
name  as  the  island),  no  longer  receives  attention. 
It  was,  moreover,  under  the  Moors  alone  that  for 
four  hundred  years  Majorca  had  a  real  and  more 
or  less  independent  history  as  a  powerful  state. 
At  first  governed  by  a  Wali  from  Cordova,  and 
eventually  constituting  a  Moorish  kingdom,  the 
position  of  Majorca  and  the  energetic  temper  of 
its  people  made  it  a  power  in  the  Mediterranean. 
With  its  fleet  it  took  part  in  the  Moslem  expedi- 
tions of  Mediterranean  conquest,  and  excited  the 
terror  of  its  Christian  neighbours  by  its  aggressive 
and  piratical  exploits.  It  is  even  said  that  the 
Mallorcan  fleet  once  devastated  Barcelona.  The 
Christian  maritime  powers  of  the  western  Medi- 
terranean were  at  last  aroused  to  a  great  efibrt. 
Early  in  the  twelfth  century  the  Catalans  under 
the  Count  of  Barcelona,  together  with  the  Pisans 
and  the  Florentines,  with  a  great  armada, 
succeeded  for  a  time  in  taking  the  Balearic 
capital,  and  gave  a  blow  to  the  prestige  of 
Moslem  Majorca.  The  final  conquest  of  the 
islands  was  achieved  a  century  later,  when  Don 
Jaime  I.,  King  of  Aragon  and  Count  of  Barcelona, 
with  a  great  fleet  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  galleys, 
conveying  a  large  army,  finally  surmounted 
Moslem  resistance,  and  added  the  Balearic  crown 
to  Aragon.  Don  Jaime's  second  son,  indeed, 
ruled  the  islands  as  a  separate  vassal  kingdom, 


198  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

but  under  Pedro  11.  the  islands  were  united  with 
Aragon,  Valencia,  and  Barcelona,  to  become  in 
due  course  part  of  the  great  kingdom  of  Spain. 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  pause  a  moment  on 
the  ancient  connection  of  Majorca  with  Valencia. 
If  the  first  vision  of  Palma  seizes  chiefly  its 
Moorish  aspect,  the  second  glimpse — so  at  least 
it  seemed  to  me — reveals  its  curiously  Valencian 
characteristics.  For  this  one  is  scarcely  prepared. 
Proximity  to  Barcelona  and  constant  mtercourse 
with  that  great  centre  of  life  and  activity,  one 
supposes,  would  have  made  Majorca,  on  the 
Spanish  side,  Catalonian  rather  than  Valencian, 
although  Valencia  is  scarcely  more  distant  than 
Majorca.  The  civilisation  of  Majorca  is,  how- 
ever, distinctly  Valencian,  and  not  Catalonian, 
possibly  it  may  be  because  the  Valencians, 
unlike  the  Catalonians,  are  strongly  Moorish 
in  their  affinities.  The  Mallorcans  have  the 
personal  energy  and  animation  of  the  Valencians, 
among  whom  we  meet  somewhat  the  same 
contrasts  of  dark  types  and  fair  types,  light- 
haired  and  grey-eyed.  They  both  have  an 
Oriental  love  of  bright  and  violent  colour  ;  in 
both  lands  the  men  among  the  peasantry  have 
retained,  though  it  is  now  dying  out,  the  fashion 
of  loose  and  baggy  trousers  drawn  in  below, 
such  as  women  wear  in  the  East.  The  water- 
pot  of  Majorca — the  vast  unglazed  double- 
handled   Greek   amphora,   often    borne    on   the 


RAMON   LULL  AT  PALMA     199 

right  shoulder  and  held  by  the  left  hand — is 
the  water-pot  of  Valencia  also,  and  of  no  other 
district  of  Spain,  quite  unlike  the  far  less 
beautiful  but  much  more  convenient  water-pot 
of  Catalonia.  And  though  the  ecclesiastical 
architecture  of  Majorca  is  related  to  that  of 
Catalonia,  the  old  Lonja  or  Exchange,  the 
architectural  gem  of  Palma,  is  only  rivalled  by 
the  similar  though  less  perfect  Lonja  de  Seda  of 
Valencia.^ 

No  doubt,  also,  the  Aragonese  conquerors  of 
Majorca  have  left  their  permanent  impress  on 
these  islands,  though  in  external  civilisation  the 
impress  may  be  less  obvious  because  the  habits 
and  customs  of  Aragonese  and  Valencians  at  so 
many  points  overlap.  But  without  the  special 
moral  characteristics  of  the  Aragonese  —  the 
intense  energy,  the  proud  independence,  the 
aptitude  for  absorbed  devotion — we  can  scarcely 
account  for  much  in  the  history  and  in  the 
genius  of  Christian  Majorca.  I  can  never  forget 
the  impression  made,  when  I  first  visited 
Saragossa,  by  these  people  of  Aragon,  a  people, 
it  seemed,  set  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
of  curiously  firm  and  hard  temper,  tenacious  of 
their  own  personal  independence,  and  indiff'erent 

^  Guillenno  Sagrera,  by  a  contract  reproduced  in  Street's  Gothic 
ArcJUtecture  in  Spain,  undertook  in  1426  to  build  the  Lonja  at  Palma 
in  twelve  years  at  his  own  cost.  Sagrera  was  the  great  arcliitect  of 
Perpignan,who  succeeded  in  persuadingthe  chapter  of  Geroiia  Cathedral 
to  adopt  the  bold  design  of  a  vast  aisleless  nave. 


200  THE   SOUL   OF  SPAIN 

to  the  judgment  of  others.  An  Aragonese 
woman  at  prayer,  with  her  dramatic  and  self- 
forgetful  gestures,  and  an  Aragonese  couple 
dancing  their  national  jota,  with  its  ecstatic 
fury  of  concentrated  muscular  energy  so  utterly 
unlike  any  Andalusian  dance,  alike  manifest  a 
temperament  of  very  special  force  and  originality. 
When  we  realise  what  they  mean  it  no  longer 
seems  surprising  that  these  Aragonese  people, 
inspired  by  a  few  priests  and  peasants  and 
women,  should  have  been  able  to  hold  the 
unfortified  city  of  Saragossa  against  the  seasoned 
troops  of  France  led  by  the  marshals  of 
Napoleon.  Aragon  certainly  counted  for  much 
in  the  constitution  of  the  more  aristocratic 
qualities  of  the  Mallorcan  spirit. 

As  one  mixes  with  the  people,  as  one  studies 
the  impress  they  have  left  of  themselves  during 
many  centuries  on  their  capital  city,  a  clear 
conception  of  the  Mallorcan  character  slowly 
emerges.  An  independent,  an  original,  almost 
an  eccentric  race,  one  is  tempted  to  call  them, 
self-centred,  energetic,  but  not  pushing,  leaving  to 
others  a  liberty  which  they  also  claim  for  them- 
selves. They  are  distinctly  an  active,  even  a 
commercial  people.  An  indolent  old-world  Eden, 
Majorca  seems  to  be  in  the  pages  of  many  who 
have  written  of  it.  When  George  Sand  and 
Chopin  came  to  Palma  they  found  no  hotel  in 
the  whole  city,  and  even  in  private  houses  none 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     201 

were  found  willing  to  board  an  invalid.  There  is 
ample  accommodation  now  ;  the  city  is  singularly 
clean,  well-kept,  and  free  from  evil  odours, — a 
state  of  things  not  always  to  be  found  even  in 
Catalonia ;  newspaper  boys  hurry  along  the 
streets ;  the  poorest  inhabitant  may  listen  to 
the  drone  of  the  gramophone  as  he  sips  his 
coffee  or  his  vermouth.  The  prosperous  energy 
of  Majorca  is  manifesting  itself  in  a  furious 
mania  for  architectural  restoration.  The  sixteenth 
century  Casa  Consistorial,  with  its  great  project- 
ing eaves,  so  characteristic  of  Palma,  is  in  the 
hands  of  workmen,  and  the  famous  cathedral 
has  been  in  course  of  restoration  for  many  years 
past.  The  ecclesiastical  activity  of  Palma  is 
indeed  very  marked,  and  many  religious  con- 
gregations, both  of  monks  and  nuns,  have  made 
their  home  in  the  island.  Nowhere  in  Spain 
have  I  seen  so  many  and,  moreover,  such 
intelligent  and  distinguished  priests ;  every 
moment  a  priest  seems  to  pass ;  it  is  so  even 
as  I  write  the  words. 

The  Mallorcans  are,  on  one  side  of  their 
nature,  genuine  artists.  They  share  in  full 
measure  the  love  of  music  which  distinguishes 
the  neighbouring  Catalonian  and  Valencian 
coasts  from  the  rest  of  Spain.  They  have  always 
been  poets  in  their  own  Catalan  tongue,  here 
spoken  more  purely  than  elsewhere,  and  it  not 
infrequently   happens   that    a    Mallorcan    poet 


202  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

receives  the  first  prize,  the  "flor  natural,"  at  the 
fiesta  of  the  Juegos  Florales,  in  which  the  Catalan 
poets  compete  with  one  another  in  the  science 
of  "gay  saber."     Above  all,  the  Mallorcans  are 
architects  and  sculptors.     Yet  the  curious  latent 
violence   of  their    temperament  —  a    persistent 
kernel  of  Africanism — involves  a  singular  lack  of 
aesthetic  sensibility.     I  have  never  heard  such 
loud  and  shrill  organs  as  the  churches  of  Palma 
possess,   nor  seen  such  loud  and  shrill  church 
windows  of  orange  and  scarlet  in  ugly  tracery, 
the   hideous   suggestions,   it  would  seem,   of  a 
kaleidoscope,    and  the   more  notable  since  the 
rich  stained  windows  which  fill  the  great  dark 
churches   of    Catalonia    are    among    the    most 
beautiful   and   impressive   in   the   world.      The 
bold,  almost  eccentric  originality  of  the  Mallorcans 
is  manifested  more   happily  in  the   carving  in 
which   their   artists,    it   is    clear,    have    always 
delighted.     A  singularly  original  example  may 
be   seen   in   the   north   door  of  Santa  Eulalia, 
where  the  carving  of  the  capitals  is  run  along  in 
a  continuous  line  of  winged  monsters  in  very 
high  relief.     They  are  bold  and  original,  these 
people,  though  not  always  happily  inspired  in 
their  art,  except  in  building,  for  their  cathedral 
is    one    of    the    most    imposing    examples    of 
Catalonian  architecture. 


RAMON   LULL  AT  PALMA     203 


III 

Ramon  Lull  was  born  a  few  years  after  the 
Christian  conquest  of  Majorca.  It  was  a  con- 
quest that  had  been  effected  humanely.  The 
fanatical  ferocity  of  a  later  age  had  not  yet 
developed.  When  the  Moslems  held  the  island 
they  tolerated  Christians,  and  allowed  the  Bishop 
of  Barcelona  to  exercise  jurisdiction  over  them, 
and  the  Christians  on  their  side  had  not  yet 
invented  the  instrument  of  the  Inquisition  which 
was  one  day  to  be  applied  so  remorselessly  in 
stamping  out  the  exquisite  civilisation  of  Islam. 
This  fact  is  memorable,  for  when  we  realise  that 
Ramon  Lull  was  born  in  the  most  nearly 
Moslem  of  Christian  cities  we  understand  how 
it  was  that  his  life  and  actions  were  so  in- 
stinctively penetrated  by  Moorish  and  Arabic 
influences. 

His  father  was  one  of  the  knights  who  had 
accompanied  Jaime  I.  on  his  great  enterprise  in 
Majorca.  Thus  Ramon  Lull  was  bred  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  chivalrous  and  romantic 
Aragonese  court,  in  the  days  when  the  knight 
and  the  troubadour  rivalled  each  other  in 
brilliant  feats  of  war  and  love  and  song.  Into 
this  current  of  life  young  Ramon  threw  himself 
with  all  the  impetuosity  and  fearless  energy  of 
his    Aragonese    ancestry,    all    the    intellectual 


204  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

brilliance  of  his  own  temperament/  He  be- 
came the  first  Catalan  poet ;  he  was  an  accom- 
plished player  on  the  cithern,  and  equally  skilled 
in  the  arts  of  navigation,  of  horsemanship,  and 
of  warfare.  Appointed  seneschal  to  the  court 
at  Palma,  he  married  and  became  the  father 
of  children.  Throughout  life  he  was  tenderly 
devoted  to  his  son,  and  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable of  his  books,  the  Liher  de  MiracuUs 
Coeli  et  Mundi,  a  sort  of  romance,  in  which  a 
man  takes  his  dearly  loved  son  through  woods 
and  mountains  and  plains,  through  towns  and 
castles  and  villages,  to  show  him  the  wonders  of 

*  While  this  temperament  is  that  of  the  finest  and  most  typical 
Spaniards  everywhere,  it  seems  to  appear  in  a  specially  concentrated 
and  typical  form  in  the  bold  and  independent  Balearic  islanders.  Five 
centuries  later  these  islands  produced  another  man  who,  though  in 
very  different  fields,  reveals  exactly  the  same  versatile  and  yet 
vigorous  temperament.  Orfila,  the  distinguished  professor  of  Medical 
Jurisprudence  in  Paris,  was  born  in  Minorca  in  1787  ;  he  learnt  Latin 
and  much  scholastic  philosophy  from  his  teacher,  a  Cordelier,  and  at 
the  age  of  fourteen  was  able  to  conduct  a  public  disputation  on  the 
highly  metaphysical  problem  :  "  Can  a  thing  be  and  not  be  at  the 
same  time  ? "  He  also  acquired  the  chief  modern  languages  as  well  as 
mathematics,  and  then  became  a  sailor  ;  but  the  ship  he  sailed  in  was 
captured  by  Barbary  pirates,  who  contemplated  impaling  and  behead- 
ing him.  He  left  the  sea  to  study  medicine  at  A''alencia,  afterwards 
at  Barcelona,  and  later  at  Paris,  became  accomplished  in  chemistry, 
and  finally  devoted  himself  to  legal  medicine,  in  which  he  was  the 
leading  authority  of  his  day,  and  the  pioneer  of  scientific  toxicology. 
At  the  same  time  he  was  highly  musical  and  possessed  a  very  fine 
voice,  at  the  beginning  of  his  medical  career  refusing  an  off"er  of  £1000 
a  year  from  the  director  of  the  Paris  Opera.  After  the  Revolution  of 
1848  he  was  summarily  dismissed  from  his  post  of  Dean  of  the 
Faculty,  and  became  the  object  of  unremitting  persecution  until  his 
death,  a  few  years  later,  from  decay  of  the  brain. 


RAMON   LULL   AT  PALMA     205 

God  in  the  world,  is  surmised  to  have  been 
written  for  his  own  son.  But  at  this  early- 
period  Lull  had  not  awakened  to  the  perception 
of  a  spiritual  world.  "  Lascivus  et  mundanus," 
he  describes  himself  in  the  few  lines  which  are 
almost  the  only  reliable  biography  of  him  extant. 
Indeed,  the  usual  story  of  his  conversion,  the 
anecdote  by  which  to  most  people,  perhaps,  the 
name  of  Kamon  Lull  alone  survives,  though  by 
no  means  impossible,  is  yet  doubtful,  for  it  was 
not  put  on  record  during  his  life.  According  to 
this  well-known  story,  the  young  poet  long 
pursued  with  his  passion  and  his  poems  an 
exceedingly  beautiful  lady  of  Palma  who  per- 
sistently rejected  his  addresses.  On  one  occasion, 
it  was  said,  he  followed  her  on  horseback  into 
the  church  of  Santa  Eulalia,  to  the  horror  of  the 
worshippers.  One  day,  at  last,  seeing  no  other 
way  to  repel  the  ardour  of  her  lover,  she  took 
him  aside  and  uncovered  her  breast,  eaten  by  a 
cancer.  From  that  moment,  according  to  the 
story,  so  great  was  the  revulsion  of  feeling  in 
the  young  troubadour's  heart  that  he  lost  all 
desire  for  earthly  joy.  Whether  there  is  any 
trace  of  truth  in  this  legend,  or  whether  it 
happened  that,  in  the  midst  of  poetry  and  love- 
making,  an  inner  voice  more  spontaneously 
called  him  to  his  true  vocation,  as  happened  in 
the  case  of  Francis  of  Assisi,  whom  in  many 
respects  he  so  closely  resembled, — though  with 


206  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

less  of  childlike  idyllic  charm,  and  a  far  gi-eater 
intellectual  force  and  originality, — it  is  certain 
that  he  soon  abandoned  his  worldly  career  and 
most  of  his  moderate  fortune,  and  after  seeking 
spiritual  guidance  in  a  pilgrimage  to  the  two  great 
shrines  of  Roque  d'Amadour  and  Compostela, 
and  intellectual  proficiency  at  the  great  univer- 
sities of  Montpellier  and  Paris,  became  a  Fran- 
ciscan friar,  and  all  his  energies  were  turned  into 
new  channels. 

Ramon  Lull  is  called  the  Doctor  Illuminatus. 
The  epithet  rightly  classes  him  among  the  great 
schoolmen.  Abelard,  Albert  the  Great,  Aquinas, 
Duns  Scotus,  were  the  great  typical  philosophers 
of  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  England.  Lull, 
led  into  the  paths  of  scholastic  philosophy  by  his 
inner  illumination  at  a  comparatively  late  period 
of  life,  and  never  losing  his  strong  and  original 
personal  character,  very  typically  represents  the 
Spaniard  as  schoolman.  Lacking  the  discipline 
of  a  monkish  training,  so  that  even  his  Latin 
style  constantly  betrays  the  Catalan  idioms  of 
his  native  tongue,  he  was  largely  self-taught, 
partly  in  that  cell  over  the  sapphire  sea,  near 
Valldemosa,  on  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  of  his 
native  island,  partly  by  his  perpetual  wanderings 
in  the  great  cities  of  France  and  Italy,  and  not 
least  in  Northern  Africa.  But  it  was  a  training 
that  gave  a  personal  and  unprejudiced  character 
to  his  vision  that  he  might  have  missed  had  he 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALM  A     207 

been  bred  in  a  cloister,  and  he  attained  to  a  varied 
culture  of  brain  and  heart,  directed  to  practical 
ends,  which  has  caused  him  to  be  compared  to 
Anselm,  though  he  was  a  less  subtle  thinker  than 
Anselm,  and  a  far  more  brilliant  and  extra- 
ordinary personality. 

Most  people  who  know  Ramon  Lull  by  the 
vague  rumour  of  tradition  probably  recall  his 
name  as  that  of  an  alchemist.  It  is  the  in- 
evitable legend  that  crystallises  around  every 
seeker  after  knowledge  in  an  age  of  ignorant 
superstition.  Many  alchemistic  writings  were 
in  later  days  attributed  to  Lull,  but  though,  with 
that  passionate  and  devouring  energy  which  has 
sometimes  consumed  the  Spaniard,  he  wrote  some 
three  hundred  treatises  on  an  immense  variety  of 
topics,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  of 
them  were  devoted  to  the  advocacy  of  alchemy. 
Luanco,  who  has  especially  studied  the  question 
of  Lull's  supposed  connection  with  alchemy, 
shows  that  from  1272  up  almost  to  his  death, 
forty  years  later,  nearly  all  the  philosopher's 
references  to  alchemy  show  a  disbelief  in  it.  He 
repeatedly  declares  in  his  various  writings  that  it 
is  no  science  at  all,  that  the  transmutation  of 
elements  is  impossible,  that  art  cannot  better  the 
operations  of  nature.  In  his  Arbor  VitcB,  a 
voluminous  compendium  of  all  human  know- 
ledge, alchemy  is  treated  as  vain,  and  even 
chemistry  is  ignored. 


208  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

The  brilliant  young  Mallorcan  knight,  the 
accomplished  troubadour,  had  now  become  a 
master  of  universal  knowledge.  It  was  an  age 
in  which  such  knowledge  was  still  just  possible 
to  a  man  of  flaming  intellect  and  irresistible 
energy.  Yet  the  multiplicity  of  Lull's  acquire- 
ments remains  astonishing.  He  wrote,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  of  metaphysics,  logic,  rhetoric, 
grammar,  dogmatics,  ethics ;  these  were  within 
the  province  of  every  schoolman.  But,  beyond 
these,  he  dealt  with  geometry,  astronomy, 
physics,  chemistry,  anthropology,  as  well  as  law 
and  statecraft,  navigation  and  warfare  and 
horsemanship.  He  foresaw  the  problem  of 
thermo-dynamics,  the  question  of  the  expendi- 
ture of  heat  in  the  initiation  of  movement ;  he 
discussed  the  essential  properties  of  the  elements; 
he  was  acquainted  with  the  property  of  iron 
when  touched  by  the  magnet  to  turn  to  the 
north ;  he  endeavoured  to  explain  the  causes 
of  wind,  and  rain,  and  ice  ;  he  concerned  him- 
self with  the  problems  of  generation.  He  fore- 
saw the  Tartar  invasion  before  the  coming  of  the 
Ottomans,  and  he  firmly  believed  in  the  existence 
of  a  great  continent  on  the  other  side  of  the 
world  centuries  before  Columbus  sailed  out  into 
the  west.  He  was  not  a  great  scientific  dis- 
coverer or  investigator ;  he  had  not  the  ex- 
clusively scientific  temperament  of  another  great 
Franciscan   of  that  day,  Roger  Bacon ;    but  his 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     209 

keen  and  penetrating  intelligence  placed  him  at 
the  head  and  even  in  front  of  the  best  available 
knowledge  of  his  time,  and  we  can  but  wonder 
that  a  man  who  began  life  as  the  gay  singer  of  a 
remote  centre  of  chivalry,  and  ended  ft  as  a 
martyr  to  faith,  should  have  possessed  so  much 
cold,  intellectual  acumen,  so  much  quiet  energy, 
to  devote  to  the  interpretation  of  the  visible 
world. 

Beyond  and  below  his  philosophical  studies 
Lull  was  a  creature  of  emotion  and  passion,  and 
It  was  not  so  much  in  science  as  in  religion- 
replacing  his  earlier  devotion  to  love  and  song— 
that  he  stands  out  as  a  great  initiator.     It  is  a 
small  matter  that  he  is  regarded  as  a  forerunner 
of  the   dogma  of  the   Immaculate    Conception, 
though  it  counts  to  his  credit  in  the  eyes  of  a 
Church  which  has  always  been  rather  uncertain 
whether  to  regard  him  as  a  heretic  or  a  saint. 
Ramon    Lull    is    the    acknowledged    father    of 
Spanish  mysticism,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  most 
potent  and  influential  school  of  religious  passion 
which  the  European  world  can  show. 

It  IS  at  this  point  that  we  realise  the  singular 
extent  to  which  Ramon  Lull,  with  all  his  flaming 
personal  individuality,  had  been  influenced  by 
the  Moslem  environment  in  which  he  had  grown 
up.  He  had  become  a  Franciscan  friar,  but  his 
personal  taste  led  him  to  the  life  of  a  hermit, 
and   with    all   his    frequent    journeys    through 

P 


210  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Europe  and  into  Africa  he  evidently  found  long 
spaces  of  time  to  spend  in  solitude,  especially, 
no  doubt,  in  the  beloved  and  exquisite  solitude 
of  his  cell  among  the  hills  of  his  native  island. 
He  was  never,  however,  the  typical  Christian 
hermit  of  his  day,  anxious  to  macerate  the  lusts 
of  the  flesh,  or  else  content  to  vegetate,  with 
sensibilities  deadened  to  all  the  appeals  of  the 
world.  Lull  was  far  less  the  Christian  hermit 
than  the  Mohammedan  Sufi.  For  the  best  of 
the  Arab  Sufis  a  hermit's  life  meant  a  fine  culti- 
vation alike  of  the  intellect  and  the  religious 
emotions.  If  Lull  had  ever  read,  as  probably  he 
had,  the  charming  philosophic  romance,  The 
Self-taught  Philosopher,  in  which  the  Spanish 
Moslem,  Ibn  Tufail,  set  forth  the  history  of  a 
spiritual  Robinson  Crusoe,  cast  as  an  infant  on  a 
desert  island  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  suckled  by  a 
compassionate  roe,  gradually  developing  through 
observation  and  contemplation  into  a  wise  and 
devout  sage,  he  would  have  found  an  ideal  that 
singularly  appealed  to  him.  Divine  illumination 
was  a  reality  to  the  Mohammedan  mystics,  and 
they  were  accustomed,  moreover,  to  symbolise 
the  relations  of  the  Creator  and  the  creature  in 
a  bold  and  Oriental  imagery  of  human  love  re- 
lationships.^    Lull,  whose  motto  was,  "  He  who 

^  A  brief  account  of  Sufism  by  Probst-Biraben,  who  has  studied  its 
manifestations  in  North  Africa,  will  be  found  in  the  Eevue  Philoso- 
phique,  May  1906. 


RAMON   LULL  AT  PALMA     211 

loves  not  lives  not,"  the  enamoured  troubadour, 
who  had  left  earthly  love  behind,  seized  on  this 
ecstatic  aspect  of  religious  adoration  with  eager 
and  inevitable  instinct.  He  first  wrested  it  from 
the  Moslem  for  Christian  uses.^  It  is  worth  while 
to  note  that  the  Sufi  had  himself  learnt  the  secret 
of  this  mysticism  from  Christian  Neo-Platonists 
of  an  earlier  age,  so  that  the  Moslem  handed  on 
to  the  Christian  the  torch  he  had  himself  received 
from  Christian  hands.  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  in 
his  Historia  de  las  Ideas  Esteticas  en  Espaiia^ 
and  Ribera,  the  Spanish  scholar  who  has  recently 
set  in  a  clear  light  the  intimate  connection  be- 
tween Lull  and  Moslem  mysticism,  have  shown 
that  his  most  beautiful  and  characteristic  work, 
the  Book  of  the  Friend  and  the  Beloved  (El 
lAhre  d  Amic  e  d  Amat),  which  is  the  foundation 
of  Spanish  mysticism,  was  written  in  direct  imi- 
tation of  Mussulman  hermits.  Lull  himself  had 
said  so  repeatedly ;  he  was  a  Sifi  whose  Beloved 
was  Christ.  It  was  in  the  spirit  of  a  Christian 
Sufi  that  he  poured  contempt  on  religious  orders, 
and  chose  the  life  of  a  solitary  hermit,  sometimes 
wandering  in  poverty  from  land  to  land,  preach- 
ing  in    streets   and   public  places  wherever  he 

^  It  may  be  noted  that  the  typical  Christian  utterance  of  dis- 
interested personal  devotion  to  God,  the  sonnet  "A  Cristo  Cnicifiado" 
(which  appears  in  all  the  Protestant  hymn-books,  translated  from  a 
Latin  version  wi'ongly  ascribed  to  Xavier),  was  written  by  an  unknown 
Spaniard.  (The  authorship  is  discussed  by  Foixlch6 -  Delbosc,  Eevue 
ffispanique,  1895  and  1899.) 


212  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

went,  sometimes  retiriDg  to  a  cave  for  ecstatic 
contemplation  or  the  company  of  his  Beloved, 
It  was  a  life  which  multitudes  of  Moors  were 
leading  on  the  opposite  coast  of  Africa.  Even 
Lull's  special  doctrine  that  aU  science  is  divine 
illumination  had  been  taught  by  Mohammedans 
long  before  he  was  born.  His  tendency  to  pan- 
theism, his  quietism,  the  belief  that  the  Friend, 
the  spiritual  lover,  is  one  in  essence  with  the 
Beloved,  this  also  was  a  Moslem  doctrine.  The 
philosopher  Abensabin,  the  ascetic  Abenhard, 
and  especially  the  mystic  poet  and  universal 
master,  Mohidin  Abenarabi, — all  Spanish  Mos- 
lems from  Murcia  who  had  gone  over  to  North 
Africa,  and  all  belonging  to  the  period  imme- 
diately anterior  to  Lull, — present  anticipations 
of  his  own  life  and  opinions  and  system  which, 
Ribera  has  shown,  cannot  be  accidental.^  The 
Sufis  wrote  parables  of  divine  love  with  the 
symbolism  of  human  love,  and  it  would  appear 
that  it  was  under  the  influence  of  an  analogous 
book  of  Mohidin's  that  Lull  was  inspired  to 
write  the  Book  of  the  Friend  and  the  Beloved, 
the  starting-point  of  that  Christian  Spanish 
mysticism  which  four  centuries  later  found  its 
greatest  representative  and  supreme  culmination 
in  Saint  Theresa.^ 

^  Ribera,  "  Origen  de  la  Filosofia  de  Raimundo  Lulio"  [Homenaje 
d  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  vol.  ii.). 

^  It  may  be  noted  that  the  conception  of  a  passionate  and  mystical 
devotion  to  abstract  causes,  as  excluding  earthly  affection,  is  one  that 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     213 

It  is  on  the  practical  religious  side  as  a 
great  missionary  pioneer  that  Lull  appeals 
chiefly  to  the  Protestant  mind.  He  is  the 
first  among  a  class  of  missionaries,  still  rarely 
found,  who  go  out  into  the  world  not  with  any 
notions  of  their  own  immense  superiority  to  the 
benighted  heathen  among  whom  their  lot  is  cast, 
but  with  the  conviction  that  they  are  themselves 
learning  as  much  as  they  teach.  Lull  owed  so 
great  a  debt  to  the  Moslem  world,  on  the  fringe 
of  which  he  had  been  born,  that  there  seemed  to 
him  but  one  pearl  of  great  price,  his  Christian 
faith,  that  he  could  impart  in  return.  There 
was  no  air  of  superiority  about  this  attitude. 
On  the  contrary,  he  had  a  special  admiration 
alike  for  the  science  and  the  virtues  of  the 
Moors.  In  his  Felix  he  remarks  that  they  are 
more  sensible  and  sagacious  in  their  manner  of 
life  than  Christians.  He  admired  also  their 
orderly  methods  of  devotion  and  their  attention 
to  preaching.  Kibera  has  not  found  a  single 
passage  in  which  Lull  speaks  otherwise  than 
afi'ectionately  of  Moslems,  Mahomet  alone  ex- 
cepted, and  even  of  Mahomet  he  says  we  must 
not  speak  ill  if  we  wish  to  convert  Moors.     The 

easily  suggests  itself  to  the  Spanish  mind,  even  outside  the  sphere  of 
religion.  Pecchio  tells  in  his  Letters  of  a  charming  and  enthusiastic 
young  Spanish  woman,  who  said  of  the  great  Spanish  popular  hero, 
Riego,  in  1821  :  "I  hear  he  is  to  marry  ;  I  am  sorry,  for  does  he 
not  live  only  for  his  country  and  only  love  liberty  ?  He  ought  not  to 
marry  ;  his  marriage  would  be  an  infidelity  to  the  Nation.  Is  he  not 
her  lover  ? " 


214  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

one  thing  lacking  to  the  Moors,  it  seemed  to  Lull, 
was  the  Christian  faith,  and  by  reasoning  with 
them,  in  their  own  tongue  and  on  their  own 
ground,  this  ardent  missionary  hoped  to  achieve 
the  feat  of  converting  them.  It  was  the  great 
object  of  his  life  to  establish  teaching  institu- 
tions for  living  languages,  especially  Arabic,  in 
which  competent  missionaries  might  be  trained. 
For  this  end,  he  himself  says,  he  worked  during 
forty-five  years.  Three  times  he  went  to  Rome 
to  lay  his  plans  before  the  Pope,  who  received 
him  kindly,  but  did  nothing.  In  this  matter 
Lull  was  ahead  of  all  the  European  universities, 
while  not  till  more  than  three  centuries  after  his 
death  was  the  Seminarium  de  Propaganda  Fide 
established.  Lull's  personal  efforts  were,  how- 
ever, far  from  insignificant.  Whether  even  his 
skill  and  energy  met  with  any  success  in  convert- 
ing Mohammedans  we  have  no  means  of  knowing, 
and  may  be  permitted  to  doubt.  The  religion  of 
Mahomet,  we  have  to  recognise,  is  a  more  youthful 
religion  than  that  of  Christ,  and  it  is  seldom 
indeed  that  a  young  religion  yields  before  an  old 
one.  To  the  present  day  Mohammedans  have 
seldom  been  converted  to  Christianity,  even  at 
the  point  of  the  sword.  The  followers  of  a  newer 
faith  refuse  to  take  what  seems  a  step  backwards. 
Lull  had  certainly  prepared  himself  for  this 
mission  with  characteristic  thoroughness.  His 
Arabic  studies  were  far  from  superficial.    He  had 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     215 

learnt  the  language  from  an  educated  Saracen 
slave,  and  he  must  have  known  more  than  merely 
colloquial  Arabic.  At  his  college  of  Miramar  in 
Majorca  he  instructed  the  friars  not  only  in  the 
Arabic  language,  but  also  in  the  Arabic  philo- 
sophic systems.  He  is  said  to  have  written 
more  than  one  work,  including  his  mystical 
masterpiece,  in  Arabic.  On  one  of  his  numerous 
visits  to  Africa  he  disputed  at  Bona  with  fifty 
Arabic  doctors.  At  Bugia  he  discussed  religious 
questions  with  the  profoundest  Moslem  thinkers. 
But  it  is  clear  that  he  always  carried  his  life  in 
his  hands.  On  earlier  visits  he  mentions  that  he 
had  been  imprisoned  and  beaten.  Against  the 
fanaticism  of  the  mob  no  devotion  can  avail,  and 
it  was  at  Bugia,  in  1315,  at  the  age  of  eighty, 
that  Lull  was  slain,  and  thence  that  his  body 
was  carried  to  Palma,  where,  ever  since,  his 
name  has  been  held  in  reverence  as  the  noblest 
of  Mallorcans. 

Ramon  Lull  was  the  first  of  great  Spaniards 
— if  we  leave  out  of  consideration  those  who 
in  an  earlier  age  were  merged  in  the  history 
of  the  Roman  world — but  no  Spaniard  since 
has  ever  summed  up  in  his  own  person  so 
completely  and  so  brilliantly  all  the  qualities 
that  go  to  the  making  of  Spain.  A  lover,  a 
soldier,  something  of  a  heretic,  much  of  a 
saint,  such  has  ever  been  the  typical  Spaniard. 
A  flaming   energy  for  which  obstacles  do   not 


216  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

exist,  an  aptitude  for  mystical  passion  alike 
in  love  and  religion,  withal  a  certain  hardness 
which  fears  not  to  face  pain  and  even  death, 
these  are  qualities  that  constantly  reappear 
in  the  men  who  made  Spain  great.  Lull  passed 
successively  through  all  the  stages  of  the 
Spanish  soul,  yet  throughout  his  long  life — 
and  herein  he  was  most  of  all  Spanish — he 
retained  the  same  fibre  and  temper  unchanged. 
The  chivalrous  young  knight  and  poet  who 
loved  music  and  women  and  horses,  when  by 
a  sudden  emotional  shock  the  course  of  his  life 
had  been  violently  turned  into  a  new  channel, 
retained  the  same  chivalrous  spirit,  the  same 
eager  devotion  addressed  to  another  love,  and 
even  used  the  same  language  in  its  service. 
In  his  hermit's  cell  and  his  ascetic  separation 
from  the  world,  his  knightly  training  and  his 
courtly  career  were  still  with  him,  and  the  most 
memorable  of  his  books,  his  Blanquerna  (which 
embodies  the  "Book  of  the  Friend  and  the 
Beloved"),  as  well  as  his  Felix,  is  a  kind  of 
Christian  romance  of  chivalry.  Throughout 
all,  the  moving  force  of  his  life  was  passion ; 
for  the  troubadour  and  for  the  saint  in  Lull, 
we  may  say,  there  was  alike  the  same  motto : 
"  He  who  loves  not  lives  not." 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     217 


IV 

In  a  gloomy  side  chapel  of  the  church  of  the 
Franciscans  in  Palma  a  dim  lamp  still  burns 
before  the  tomb  of  Ramon  Lull.  It  is 
an  elaborate  monument  in  alabaster,  that  a 
skilful  Mallorcan  sculptor  made  more  than 
a  century  after  Lull's  death,  and  it  covers  all 
the  eastern  wall  of  this  little  chapel.  Above  is 
a  sarcophagus,  on  which  lies  supine  the  figure  of 
Lull,  but  in  the  bizarre  Balearic  manner  the 
couch  on  which  the  figure  rests  is  turned  at 
an  impossible  right  angle  to  the  sarcophagus, 
so  that  the  figure  may  be  completely  visible 
to  the  spectator.^  It  is  a  grave,  sedate,  and 
masculine  face,  with  a  long  and  venerable 
beard;  a  skull-cap  covers  the  head,  which 
rests  on  a  cushion,  while  the  figure  is  robed 
in  a  long  plain  gown  with  a  great  rosary  at 
the  girdle.  So,  we  may  well  believe,  the  hermit 
looked  in  life. 

I  am  never  weary  of  wandering  over  the 
variegated  uneven  pavement  of  this  long  dark 
church  of  the  Franciscans.  It  is  not  one  of 
the  noblest  churches  of  Spain,  but  I  know  few 
that  are   more  interesting,   nor  can   I   conceive 

^  Although  this  peculiar  method  is  most  common  and  pronounced 
in  Palma,  I  have  also  found  a  similar  disposition  of  sepulchral  effigies 
at  right  angles  in  Zamora  Cathedral ;  more  often  it  is  attenuated  (as 
also  at  Salamanca)  to  half  a  right  angle,  which  is  less  displeasing. 


218  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

any  that  would  make  for  Ramon  Lull  so  meet 
a  shrine.  It  lies  in  a  quiet  square  in  the  heart 
of  his  native  city,  and  from  the  city  itself  it 
looks  an  inconspicuous  object.  But  when  we 
go  beyond  the  walls  on  the  road  to  Valldemosa 
the  tower  of  the  Franciscans  seems  to  dominate 
the  city,  and  we  see  from  afar  at  its  summit  the 
quaint  little  green-tiled  turret  with  its  balcony 
that  opens  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  sky  like 
a  muezzin  minaret,  a  delightful  reminiscence  of 
that  Moslem  world  which  Lull  loved  so  greatly 
and  died  for  at  last.^ 

Nowadays,  it  would  seem,  the  tide  of  popular 
favour  has  receded  from  the  church  of  San 
Francisco.  The  present  Mallorcan  mania  for 
restoration  has  not  touched  it;  a  few  much 
needed  repairs  have  been  quietly  effected,  but 
on  the  whole  the  church  is  rather  dilapidated 
and  very  much  unspoilt.  The  worshippers  are 
few  and  poor,  the  cloisters  with  their  delicate 
and  charming  double  row  of  arcades  are  almost 
inaccessible  and  overgrown  with  weeds,  there  is 
seldom  any  sacristan  to  guard  or  to  exhibit  the 
treasures  of  the  place. ^     For  the  most  part  the 

*  A  somewhat  similar  turret,  with  roof  of  glazed  tiles,  may  be  seen 
at  St.  Paul's  at  Saragossa. 

^  Part  of  this  ancient  monastery,  including  the  beautiful  cloisters, 
is  the  property  of  the  State.  Some  Franciscan  friars  have  been 
allowed  to  occupy  the  adjoining  parts  of  the  convent,  and  not  long 
since  (in  1906),  the  year  after  my  visit,  they  were  violently  accused  in 
a  leading  Mallorcan  newspaper  of  effecting  changes  in  the  part  of  the 
building   belonging   to   the   State ;   the  charge  seems  to   have   been 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     219 

large  dark  church  is  one's  own,  an  antique 
museum  to  enjoy,  a  home  of  romance  to 
dream  in. 

Once,  however,  it  is  clear,  the  church  of 
St.  Francis  must  have  been  the  most  fashion- 
able and  popular  in  Palma.  On  every  side 
there  are  the  ruined  proofs  of  ancient  wealth 
and  luxury.  It  is  a  rich  collection  of  antiquities, 
not  artificially  brought  together,  but  as  they 
have  grown  up  during  many  centuries,  and  as 
they  have  remained  untouched,  it  would  almost 
seem,  for  ages.  Not  notably  beautiful  or  novel 
in  construction,  the  church  is  adorned  with 
plateresque  sculpture  without,  and  within  with 
various  marbles  here  and  there  broken  by  the 
ravages  of  time.  The  wealthy  citizens  of  Palma 
evidently  desired  to  be  buried  here,  for  the 
church  is  crowded  with  memorials  of  the  dead ; 
there  are  large  monuments  all  around,  and 
gravestones  are  profusely  scattered  over  the 
worn  pavement.  The  chapels,  often  irregularly 
paved  or  dadoed  with  ancient  azulejo  tiles,  are 
occupied  by  elaborate  altars  and  sumptuous  old 
tombs.  Vast  and  quaint  benches  of  various 
pattern  are  placed  about  the  church,  a  con- 
cession to  comfort  we  are  surprised  to  find  in 
so  ancient  a  sanctuary.  No  Mallorcan  church 
is  richer  in  pictures,  not  only  sacred  pictures, 

unfouuded,  and  is  chiefly  interesting  as  an  indication  of  the  growing 
resentment  aroused  by  the  religious  orders  in  Spain, 


220  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

but  secular, — notably  a  large  ancient  view  of 
Palma  in  the  ambulatory  behind  the  altar, — 
of  no  great  artistic  value  usually,  but  often 
of  considerable  interest.  And  there  is  much 
sculpture  also  of  the  bold  and  imposing  type 
common  in  Palma. 

A  deserted  and  delicious  place  to  dream  in 
now,  in  the  days  of  its  prosperity  the  church 
of  San  Francisco  was  not  always  an  inviolate 
sanctuary  of  peace.  The  waves  of  human 
passion  sometimes  broke  tumultuously  through 
even  these  doors.  One  tragic  episode  especially 
in  the  history  of  Palma  came  to  a  climax  in 
this  church.  Late  in  the  fifteenth  century  a 
certain  noble  citizen  of  Palma  was  passing  the 
house  of  another  citizen,  when  a  servant-girl, 
throwing  the  slops  out  of  an  upper  window — as 
is  still  the  custom  in  the  side  streets  of  some 
Spanish  cities — emptied  the  jar  on  to  the 
passer's  head.  The  irritated  citizen  entered, 
and  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  the  lady 
of  the  house,  insisted  on  personally  chastising 
the  careless  damsel.  The  master  of  the  house, 
insulted  by  this  violation  of  his  domicile,  took 
counsel  with  his  friends,  and  with  their  aid 
avenged  the  injury  by  slaying  both  the  aggressor 
and  his  wife.  The  criminals  were  arrested, 
but  finally  pardoned.  Meanwhile,  however, 
adherents  had  flocked  to  each  side ;  two 
parties    were    formed,    and    the    feud    at    last 


RAMON  LULL  AT  PALMA     221 

broke  out  in  this  church  of  San  Francisco, 
where  both  factions,  numbering  three  hundred 
persons,  one  day  attacked  each  other  furiously. 
Blood  flowed,  many  fell  dead ;  in  vain  the 
friars  sought  to  restore  peace,  and  held  the 
sacrament  up  before  the  combatants.  That  is 
the  note  of  violence  in  the  Balearic  character, 
the  note  that  we  still  see  in  their  art.^  Now 
friars  and  combatants,  even  worshippers,  have 
alike  left  the  convent  of  the  Franciscans  to 
peace.  The  memory  of  Lull  alone  remains 
living  in  the  church  where  the  dim  lamp 
swings  unextinguished  before  his  tomb,  and 
from  the  delicious  little  green  and  red  minaret 
a  silent  muezzin  still  seems  to  proclaim  his 
message  to  the  world. 


It  was  a  calm  and  lovely  evening  when,  once 
more  on  the  Lulio,  we  sheered  off  from  the 
wharf  at  Palma.  The  sun  was  setting  magni- 
ficently over  one  horn  of  the  crescent  bay,  and 
over  the  other  the  full  moon  was  softly  sending 
its  silver  shafts  along  the  rippling  waters. 
Naples  is  but  a  vast  miscellaneous  water - 
washed  boulevard  beside  this  smaller  but  most 
exquisite  bay,  and  now  it  seemed  a  mirage  of 

^  It  is  no  longer  marked  in  criminal  activity  ;  according  to  the 
latest  statistics,  the  Balearic  Isles  stand  better  in  respect  to  crimes  of 
violence  than  any  other  Spanish  region. 


222  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

enchantment.  On  the  left  is  the  famous  castle 
of  Bellver,  the  sentinel  of  Palma,  firmly  seated 
on  its  hill ;  almost  on  the  beach  stands  the 
gracious  and  delicate  Lonja,  with  the  bold 
indentations  of  its  battlements  against  the 
sky.  To  the  right,  rising  from  the  massive 
mediaeval  walls,  which  with  their  gates  still 
surround  the  city,  stands  out  superbly  the 
spiritual  fortress  of  Palma,  the  vast  pile  of  the 
cathedral,  and  beneath  it  the  long  low  Moorish 
outline  of  the  Almudaina,  which  has  in  all 
ages  been  the  palace  of  the  temporal  rulers  of 
Majorca.  The  undulating  hills  form  a  back- 
ground to  this  vision,  which  dissolves  into  a 
shimmering  moonlit  fairyland  as  the  Lulio  turns 
northward  under  the  walls  of  Bellver. 

But  for  many  hours  longer  we  still  hug  the 
coast.  The  grass-clad  rocks  reach  to  the  silent, 
tideless  sea,  little  inlets  now  and  again  ofi'er 
their  glimpses  of  idyllic  peace ;  we  pass  the 
heights  that  just  conceal  Valldemosa  and  its 
ruined  Carthusian  monastery,  in  which  Chopin, 
haunted  and  oppressed,  composed  his  Preludes. 
On  the  left  the  huge  mass  of  Ivi^a  looms  in  the 
growing  darkness,  a  mountain  island.  The  sense 
of  enchantment  is  slowly  passing  away.  My 
fellow -passengers,  mostly  priests,  quietly  dis- 
appear below  before  the  hour  grows  too  indis- 
creetly late.  In  the  morning  we  find  ourselves  once 
more  in  the  gay  and  busy  world  of  Barcelona. 


VIII 
'DON   QUIXOTE' 


Three  centuries  ago  there  appeared  in  Madrid 
a  novel  entitled  Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha. 
The  book  was  carelessly  printed  in  poor  type 
on  bad  paper.  It  aroused  little  admiration ; 
most  of  the  great  literary  men  of  the  age  looked 
down  on  it  contemptuously ;  it  seemed,  indeed, 
to  satirise  some  of  the  most  sacred  ideals  of 
serious  Spaniards.  But,  however  it  might  be 
regarded  by  orthodox  literary  critics  or  narrow- 
minded  patriots,  the  book  was  at  once  read 
throughout  Spain.  Outside  Spain,  also,  it  was 
very  soon  not  only  known  and  translated,  but 
highly  praised,  especially  in  England,  where 
leading  men  of  letters,  great  philosophers,  and 
eminent  physicians  proclaimed  their  admiration.^ 

^  "No  foreign  nation  has  equalled  England  in  appreciating  the 
merit  of  Cervantes,"  writes  Navarrete,  one  of  the  best  of  his  bio- 
graphers. Just  as  the  first  biography  of  Velazquez  was  wTitten  by 
an  Englishman,  so  it  was  at  the  request  of  an  Englishman,  Lord  John 

223 


224  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

More  happy  than  its  hero  or  its  author,  the 
novel  had  set  forth  on  a  career  of  adventure  in 
which  it  finally  conquered  the  world. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  about  it,  Don  Quixote 
is  the  world's  greatest  and  most  typical  novel. 
There  are  other  novels  which  are  finer  works  of 
art,  more  exquisite  in  style,  of  more  perfect 
architectonic  plan.  But  such  books  appeal  less 
to  the  world  at  large  than  to  the  literary  critic ; 
they  are  not  equally  amusing,  equally  profound, 
to  the  men  of  all  nations,  and  all  ages,  and  all 
degrees  of  mental  capacity.  Even  if  we  put 
aside  monuments  of  literary  perfection,  like  some 
of  the  novels  of  Flaubert,  and  consider  only  the 
great  European  novels  of  widest  appeal  and 
deepest  influence,  they  still  fall  short  of  the 
standard  which  this  book,  their  predecessor  and 
often  their  model,  had  set.  Tristram  Shandy, 
perhaps  the  most  cosmopolitan  of  English  novels, 
a  book  that  in  humour  and  wisdom  often 
approaches  Don  Quixote,  has  not  the  same 
universality  of  appeal.  Robinson  Crusoe,  the 
most  typical  of  English  novels,  the  Odyssey  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  on  his  mission  of  colonising 
the  earth — God-fearing,  practical,  inventive — is 
equally  fascinating  to  the  simplest  intellect  and 
the  deepest.     Yet,  wide  as  its  reputation  is,  it 

Carteret,  that  the  first  biography  of  Cervantes  was  written  in  1738, 
while  the  first  edition  of  Don  Quixote  prepared  with  the  reverence  due 
to  a  classic  was  the  work,  in  1781,  of  another  Englishman,  the  Rev. 
John  Bowie. 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  225 

has  not  the  splendid  affluence,  the  universal 
humanity,  of  Don  Quixote.  Tom  Jones,  always 
a  great  English  novel,  can  never  become  a  great 
European  novel ;  while  the  genius  of  Scott,  which 
was  truly  cosmopolitan  in  its  significance  and  its 
influence,  was  not  only  too  literary  in  its  inspira- 
tions, but  too  widely  difi"used  over  a  wilderness 
of  romances  ever  to  achieve  immortality.  La 
Nouvelle  Heloise,  which  once  swept  across  Europe 
and  renewed  the  novel,  was  too  narrow  in  its 
spirit,  too  temporary  in  its  fashion,  to  be  endur- 
ing. Wilhelm  Meister,  perhaps  the  wisest  and 
profoundest  of  books  in  novel  form,  challenges  a 
certain  comparison,  as  the  romance  of  the  man 
who,  like  Saul  the  son  of  Kish,  went  forth  to 
seek  his  father's  asses  and  found  a  kingdom ;  it 
narrates  an  adventure  which  is  in  some  sense 
the  reverse  of  Don  Quixote's,  but  in  its  fictional 
form  it  presents,  like  the  books  of  Kabelais,  far 
too  much  that  is  outside  the  scope  of  fiction  ever 
to  appeal  to  all  tastes.  The  Arabian  Nights, 
which  alone  surpasses  Don  Quixote  in  variety 
and  universality  of  interest,  is  not  a  novel  by 
one  hand,  but  a  whole  literature.  Don  Quixote 
remains  the  one  great  typical  novel.  It  is  a 
genuine  invention ;  for  it  combined  for  the  first 
time  the  old  chivalrous  stories  of  heroic  achieve- 
ment with  the  new  picaresque  stories  of  vulgar 
adventure,  creating  in  the  combination  something 
that  was  altogether  original,  an  instrument  that 

Q 


226  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

was  capable  of  touching  life  at  every  point.  It 
leads  us  into  an  atmosphere  in  which  the  ideal  and 
the  real  are  equally  at  home.  It  blends  together 
the  gravest  and  the  gayest  things  in  the  world. 
It  penetrates  to  the  harmony  that  underlies  the 
violent  contrasts  of  life,  the  only  harmony  which 
in  our  moments  of  finest  insight  we  feel  to  be 
possible,  in  the  same  manner  and,  indeed,  at  the 
same  moment — for  Lear  appeared  in  the  same 
year  as  Don  Quixote — that  Shakespeare  brought 
together  the  madman  and  the  fool  on  the  heath 
in  a  concord  of  divine  humour.  It  is  a  story- 
book that  a  child  may  enjoy,  a  tragicomedy  that 
only  the  wisest  can  fully  understand.  It  has 
inspired  many  of  the  masterpieces  of  literature ; 
it  has  entered  into  the  lives  of  the  people  of 
every  civilised  land;  it  has  become  a  part  of 
our  human  civilisation. 


n 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  author  of 
such  a  book  as  this,  the  supreme  European  novel, 
an  adventure  book  of  universal  human  interest, 
should  be  a  typical  man  of  letters,  shut  up  in  a 
study,  like  Scott  or  Balzac  or  Zola.  Cervantes 
was  a  man  of  letters  by  accident.  First  of  all, 
he  was  a  soldier  and  an  adventurer ;  it  was  as 
such  that  he  impressed  his  fellow-countrymen, 
and  to  this  fact  we  owe  much  of  our  knowledge 


'DON   QUIXOTE'  227 

of  his  life.  The  records  of  his  life — apart  from 
his  incidental  notices  of  himself,  and  equally 
apart  from  his  later  fame  as  an  author — are 
detailed,  though  broken  and  imperfect.  We  are 
even  able  to  frame  a  definite  picture  of  the  man 
as  he  lived, — here,  indeed,  aided  by  his  own 
description  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Exemplary 
Novels, — a  more  definite  picture  than  we  possess 
of  his  great  contemporary  and  spiritual  kinsman, 
Shakespeare,  though,  in  this  more  unfortunate, 
we  have  no  authentic  portrait  of  Cervantes.  We 
see  him,  a  man  of  average  height,  with  heavy 
shoulders,  light  complexion,  bright  eyes,  chestnut 
hair,  great  moustache,  and  golden  beard,  a  little 
marred  by  short  sight  and  an  impediment  of 
speech,  yet  the  type  of  the  man  of  sanguine 
temperament  and  audacious  action. 

Bom  in  1547,  probably  on  Michaelmas  Day, 
in  the  ancient  Castilian  university  town  of 
AlcaU  de  Henares,  near  Madrid,  Cervantes  was 
the  youngest  child  of  parents  of  hidalgo  blood, 
whose  position  in  the  world  had  fallen,  but  who 
both  belonged  to  Alcala  and  its  neighbourhood. 
Cervantes  was  fortunate,  not  only  in  his  birth, 
but  in  his  breeding ;  his  schoolmaster  was  a 
man  of  firm  character,  as  well  as  of  learning 
and  literary  ability ;  he  conceived  an  afi'ection 
for  his  pupil,  and  was  probably  the  means  of 
implanting  or  arousing  those  tastes  which  were 
afterwards  to  develop  so  mightily.     As  a  youth 


228  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Cervantes  wrote  bad  verse,  which  perhaps  helped 
him  to  secure  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  the 
friendship  and  patronage  of  Cardinal  Acquaviva, 
a  man  scarcely  older  than  himself,  with  whom 
he  travelled  to  Eome.  For  some  of  his  bio- 
graphers there  is  a  mystery  about  this  sudden 
departure  from  Madrid ;  there  was  a  quarrel,  it 
has  been  more  than  surmised,  an  intrigue  with  a 
lady  of  high  birth,  swords  drawn  in  the  precincts 
of  the  Court — a  serious  offence,  for  which  the 
penalty  was  loss  of  the  right  hand.  But,  what- 
ever the  episode,  it  served  to  bring  Cervantes 
into  the  main  current  of  European  life.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  fine  moment  in  the  history  of  Europe. 
The  days  of  chivalry  seemed  to  have  come  back 
again.  A  great  Crusade  had  been  preached 
against  the  infidel  Turk,  and  under  the  in- 
spiration of  the  Pope  and  the  leadership  of 
Don  John  of  Austria  the  united  forces  of  Eome, 
Spain,  and  Venice  were  preparing  to  put  to  sea 
with  an  armament  of  unparalleled  magnitude. 
Cervantes,  with  the  hereditary  instincts  of  a 
soldier  and  the  personal  impulse  of  a  poet 
enamoured  of  high  adventure,  shared  the  en- 
thusiasm. He  left  the  Cardinal's  household  and 
enlisted  as  a  common  soldier.  But  the  regiment 
he  entered,  which  admitted  only  young  men  of 
good  family,  was  one  of  great  distinction  ;  it 
represented  the  flower  of  Spanish  infantry,  held 
to  be  invincible,  until,  a  century  later,  it  went 


*  DON   QUIXOTE'  229 

down  for  ever  at  the  battle  of  Rocroi.  This 
wave  of  Christian  chivalry  that  thus  swept 
Cervantes  with  it  culminated  in  the  famous 
battle  of  Lepanto,  one  of  the  world's  great 
sea-fights.  That  day — the  7th  of  October  1571 
— was  the  finest  moment  in  the  life  of  Cervantes. 
He  was  weak  and  ill  of  a  fever  when  the  battle 
began,  he  received  three  gunshot  wounds  in  the 
course  of  it,  and  his  left  hand  was  permanently 
maimed,  yet  his  share  in  the  glory  of  that  day 
was  ever  afterwards  a  source  of  pride  and  joy. 
Singularly  enough,  as  contemporary  evidence 
amply  shows,  the  part  played  by  this  private 
soldier  on  board  the  Marquesa,  one  among 
thirty  thousand  men,  really  won  him  high 
honour.  Nothing  could  better  demonstrate  the 
extraordinary  personal  qualities  of  the  man. 
When,  after  some  further  service  in  an  ex- 
pedition against  Tunis,  he  obtained  leave  of 
absence  to  revisit  Spain,  he  bore  with  him  on 
board  the  galley  El  Sol  letters  of  recommenda- 
tion to  the  King  from  the  first  generals  of  the 
day,  containing  the  highest  eulogies  of  his  valour 
and  merit,  as  well  as  of  his  amiable  personal 
qualities.  But  that  irony  of  life  which  was 
always  to  pursue  Cervantes  in  the  real  world — 
aided,  as  he  himself  admitted,  by  peculiarities 
of  personal  temperament  ^ — and  which  in  old  age 

1  There  is  much  in  Cervantes's  life  to  indicate  defects  of  personal 
character,  not  necessarily  of  an  unlovable  character,  but  exactly  what 


230  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

he  was  to  translate  so  incomparably  into  the  terms 
of  the  ideal  world,  had  already  begun  to  follow 
him.  The  Sol  was  captured  almost  in  sight  of 
Spain  by  Algerine  corsairs,  and  these  letters  led 
the  captors  to  form  so  high  an  opinion  of  the 
importance  of  their  captive  that  they  demanded 
a  ransom  out  of  proportion  to  his  position  or 
his  family's  means.  He  became  the  slave  of  a 
corsair  captain  of  exceptional  brutality,  and  was 
carried  to  Algiers  in  chains,  there  to  be  detained 
for  five  years. 

In  Algiers,  as  again  we  learn  from  much 
independent  evidence,  Cervantes  displayed, 
under  new  and  more  difficult  circumstances, 
the  same  extraordinary  personal  qualities.  He 
was  a  slave,  in  chains,  the  property  of  a  brutal 
master.  Yet  he  speedily  became  the  leader  and 
inspirer  of  the  Christian  captives  in  Algiers.  In 
devising  methods  of  escape  and  in  boldly  seeking 
to  execute  them,  his  courage  and  fertility  of 
resource  were  alike  inexhaustible.  Owing  to  the 
treachery  of  others,  rather  than  to  any  failure  on 
his  own  part,  his  plans  always  miscarried  ;  but  he 
accepted  the  responsibility,  and  he  would  im- 
plicate no  one  else.  It  is  astonishing  that  his 
captors,  so  far  from  inflicting  punishment  upon 
him,  seem  to  have  treated  him  with  an  increased 
degree  of  consideration,  but  in  Islam  human  worth 

tliey  were  remains  obscure.     The  problem  has  lately  been  interestingly 
discussed  in  Hans  Parlow's  essay,  Zu  dcm  Lelen  des  Cervantes. 


*DON  QUIXOTE'  231 

is    recognised    and   esteemed    wherever   it   may 
appear ;  that  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  its  vitality. 
At  last,  by  the  exertions  of  a  benevolent  monk, 
the  amount  of  the  ransom  was  gathered  together 
from  various  sources,  and  Cervantes  returned  to 
Spain.     But  his   services  were   now  forgotten ; 
Lepanto  had  proved  a  barren  victory,  and  Don 
John  was  dead.      If  Cervantes  had  chosen   to 
become    a    renegade   Mohammedan,    he    could, 
doubtless,  have  risen  to  any  position  he  cared  to 
aspire  to ;  in  Spain,  the  spirit  of  freedom  and 
all  personal  initiative  were  being  crushed  beneath 
the  arrogant  hands  of  the  Philips.     Spain  had 
no  uses  for  the  best  and  bravest  of  her  sons,  and 
Cervantes  saw  nothing  before  him  but  to  do  as 
he  had  done  ten  years  before,  though  not,  we 
may  be  sure,  with    the   same   enthusiasm :    he 
once   more   entered   the   ranks   as    a    common 
soldier.      This  time,  again,  he  chose   a   highly 
distinguished  regiment,  in  which,  it  so  chanced, 
his  rival,  Lope  de  Vega, — then  a  boy  of  sixteen, 
but  soon  to  become  the  acknowledged  prince  of 
Spanish  letters, — was  also  at  this  time  serving. 
Cervantes  was  now,  however,  growing  tired  of 
the  hard,  ill-paid,  and  brutal  life  of  camps ;  a 
chivalrous  enthusiasm,  not  the  love  of  warfare, 
had  led  him  to  become  a   soldier;    and,    after 
fighting    under    Alva    a    victorious    campaign 
against  Portugal,  he   threw  aside  the  pike  for 
the  pen. 


232  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

It  was  a  memorable  epoch   in   his   life.     It 
seems  to  have  been  in  Portugal,  about  this  time, 
that  he  fell  in  love  with  a  Portuguese  woman, 
said  to  have  been  of  high  birth,  by  whom  he 
had  a  natural  daughter,  his  only  child,  who  was 
with  him  to  the  end  of  his  life ;  and  perhaps  it 
was  on  this  account  that  he  retained  a  constant 
affection  for  Portugal  and  the  Portuguese.    About 
this  time,  in  1584,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight, 
he    wrote    his    first    acknowledged    work,    the 
pastoral  poem  of  Galatea,   and   shortly  after- 
wards married  the  lady    for   whose   sake   it  is 
supposed  to  have  been  written,  a  woman  much 
younger   than   himself,    belonging   to   his    own 
province,  and  of  fairly  good  fortune ;  with  her 
he  appears  to  have  lived  happily  till  his  death, 
and  she  desired  to  be  buried  by  his  side.^    Hence- 
forth his   life   was   divided   between  literature, 
especially  the  writing  of  plays,  and  various  petty 
avocations, — sometimes    as  a   collector   of  dues 
for  religious  orders,  sometimes  as  an  agent  for 
buying  grain  and  oil  for  the  fleet, — whereby  he 
was  enabled  to  become  very  familiar  with  every 
aspect  of  country  life  in  Spain.     Once  (in  1597) 
he  was  imprisoned  at  Seville,  by  the  default  of 

1  But  it  has  been  pointed  out  that  her  actions  show  an  attitude  of 
reserve  towards  her  husband  and  little  inclination  to  assist  him  with 
money.  Perhaps  this  was  the  result  of  his  defects  of  character;  per- 
haps she  never  forgot  that  she  was  a  childless  wife  who  had  received 
into  the  house  the  child  born  to  her  husband  by  another  woman  at  the 
very  time  he  was  courting  her. 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  233 

a  man  to  whom  he  had  entrusted  a  large  sum  of 
money  belonging  to  the  Government.  In 
literature  he  was  always  a  pioneer,  though  as 
yet  he  had  written  nothing  that  could  gain  for 
him  an  immortal  name.  At  last,  if  we  may 
follow  the  legend,  for  some  unknown  reason  he 
was  incarcerated  for  a  time  in  the  cellar  of  a 
house  in  the  little  town  of  Argamasilla  in  La 
Mancha.  Here,  it  is  suggested,  the  germ  of 
Don  Quixote  arose  in  his  mind,  and  Argamasilla 
became  the  home  of  Don  Quixote.^  In  1605 
the  first  part  was  published.  Yet  later,  in  1613, 
appeared  the  Novelas  Exemplares,  a  delightful 
collection  of  stories,  which,  as  literature,  may  be 
said  in  some  respects  to  rank  even  above  the 
greater  work.  Finally,  in  1615,  at  the  age  of 
sixty-eight,  he  published  the  second  part  of  Don 
Quixote.  During  all  these  years  Cervantes  lived 
with  his  wife,  his  daughter,  his  widowed  sister 
and  his  niece,  whom  he  supported,  sometimes 
in  Seville  or  Toledo,  sometimes  in  Valladolid  or 
Madrid,^  the  chief  cities  of  a  country  which  was 

^  Undemonstrable  traditions  may  sometimes  have  a  basis  of  truth, 
but  there  was  no  prison  at  Argamasilla  at  this  time,  and  research  has 
yielded  no  shred  of  evidence  to  indicate  that  Cervantes  was  ever 
detained  here  in  any  kind  of  way.  It  is  true  that  his  own  statement 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Prologue,  that  his  story  is  one  that  "might 
well  be  engendered  in  a  prison,"  maybe  held  to  support  the  tradition  ; 
it  may  also  be  held  to  be  the  source  of  it.  Some  writers,  like  Navarro 
y  Ledesma,  in  his  life  of  Cervantes,  anxious  to  preserve  the  prison 
legend,  maintain  that  it  was  during  his  unquestioned  incarceration  at 
Seville  that  Cervantes  conceived  Do7i  Quixote. 

^  In  some  of  these  cities  the  houses  iu  which  Cervantes  dwelt  still 


234  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

at  that  moment  the  first  in  the  world,  the  largest, 
the  richest,  the  most  brilliant.  He  died  in 
Madrid,  a  popular  author,  but  a  poor  and 
unhonoured  man,  on  April  23,  1616,  departing 
from  the  world  but  a  little  before  his  great 
fellow-spirit,  Shakespeare. 


Ill 

It  was  necessary  to  recapitulate  the  main  facts 
of  the  life  of  Cervantes — however  familiar  they 
may  be — because  it  is  impossible  to  understand 
Don  Quixote  unless  we  realise  clearly  the  figure 
of  the  man  who  stands  behind  it.  We  are 
accustomed  to  say  that  the  book  is  a  satire  of 
the  old  romances  of  chivalry.  In  a  limited 
sense  that  is  quite  true.  Cervantes  ridiculed 
the  extravagances  of  chivalrous  romance  in  its 
decadence.     But  for  Amadis  and  the  other  great 

remain.  Perhaps  the  most  interesting  spot  associated  with  him  is  the 
Posada  de  la  Sangre  at  Toledo.  It  lies  just  outside  the  Zocodover, 
beyond  the  horse-shoe  archway  that  leads  down  to  the  Tagus.  In 
Cervantes's  day  it  was  one  of  the  best  inns  in  Toledo,  and  with  its 
old  courtyard,  its  balcony  around,  with  the  rooms  of  the  upper  floor 
opening  on  to  it  (as  in  the  old  English  inns),  and  its  columns  of 
older  than  Moorish  ago  supporting  the  balcony,  it  may  well  have 
remained  unchanged  since  the  time  when,  as  we  may  well  believe, 
Cervantes  stayed  here  and  wrote.  It  was  here  that  he  placed  the 
scene  of  his  delightful  story  of  the  illustrious  kitchen-maid,  perhaps 
weavinghis  tale  round  some  maid  of  the  inn,  seeming  too  beautiful  and 
refined  for  her  tasks,  such  as  Dona  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan  has  found  of 
late  in  the  same  kitchen  of  the  same  inn,  now  only  patronised  by 
carters  and  peasants,  though  occasionally,  for  love  of  Cervantes  more 
distinguished  visitors  stay  here. 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  235 

old  romances  he  had  nothing  but  admiration  and 
affection.  They  were,  indeed,  a  characteristic 
product  of  Spain  ;  we  may  even  say  the  same 
of  chivalry  itself,  for  it  lived  on  in  Spain  long 
after  it  had  died  everywhere  else,  fostered  by 
the  struggle  against  the  infidel  Moslem,  himself 
a  chivalrous  figure,  and  the  more  or  less  legendary 
Cid  is  the  supreme  representative  of  chivalry. 
Cervantes  lived  his  whole  life  in  the  spirit  of  the 
knight  errant,  and  Don  Quixote  swept  away  the 
romances  of  chivalry,  not  because  it  was  a  satire 
of  them,  but  because  it  was  itself  a  romance  of 
chivalry  and  the  greatest  of  them  all,  since  its 
action  was  placed  in  the  real  world. 

Cervantes  was  only  a  man  of  letters  by 
accident.  He  was  a  soldier,  a  man  of  action, 
who  would  never  have  taken  up  the  pen,  except 
in  moments  of  recreation,  if  a  long  chain  of 
misfortunes  had  not  closed  the  other  avenues  of 
life.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  nearly  every 
great  Spanish  author  has  been  a  soldier  or  an 
adventurer,  at  least  as  familiar  with  the  pike  as 
with  the  pen.  "  The  lance  has  never  blunted 
the  pen,  nor  the  pen  the  lance,"  said  Don 
Quixote,  therein  expressing  the  conviction  of  all 
Spanish  writers.  Italian  men  of  letters  have 
often  been  keen  politicians,  French  men  of 
letters  brilliant  men  of  the  world,  English  and 
Americans  good  business  men,  or  capable  men  of 
aftairs,  but  nowhere  save  in  Spain  do  we  find 


236  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

the  soldier  supreme  in  literature.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  writers  of  the  golden  age  of 
Spain  in  which  Cervantes  himself  lived,  we  find 
the  soldier  prominent  in  Spanish  literature  from 
the  first.  Merobaudes,  the  Christian  poet  of  the 
fifth  century,  was  also  a  distinguished  soldier; 
Jaime  the  Conqueror,  the  great  King  of  Aragon, 
is  almost  as  famous  for  his  picturesque  chronicle 
as  for  his  fighting  qualities ;  Bishop  Roderic  of 
Toledo,  the  chief  chronicler  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  wielded  his  sword  in  the  fight  with  the 
same  vigour  as  he  wielded  the  pen  afterwards  in 
describing  the  fight ;  Santillana,  the  glory  of 
Spanish  literature  in  the  fifteenth  century,  was 
equally  great  in  camp,  council,  and  court ; 
Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  one  of  the  most  typical 
of  Spanish  figures,  described  himself  as  dividing 
his  time  between  his  sword  and  his  pen, 
"  Tomando  ora  la  espada,  ora  la  pluma." 

Spain  has  ever  been  the  land  of  the  sword : 
the  ancient  rapier,  perhaps  even  the  name  itself, 
is  Spanish ;  Shakespeare's  soldiers  cherished  their 
Bilbo;  the  blades  of  Toledo,  valued  by  the 
Eomans,  are  still  made  in  that  ancient  city.  It 
is  perhaps  not  surprising  that,  with  this  famili- 
arity with  the  sword  and  the  rapier,  Spanish 
men  of  letters,  and  very  notably  Cervantes 
himself,  though  he  was  a  slow  and  careful 
writer,  were  apt  to  neglect  the  more  minute 
graces   of  style,    and   to   wield    the    pen    with 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  237 

somethinof  of  the  same  freedom  and  force  which 
they  had  acquired  with  the  more  brilliant,  virile, 
and  flexible  weapon.  It  is,  perhaps,  also  not 
surprising  that  they  learned  in  the  world  of 
action  to  feel  and  to  express  a  humanity,  an 
insight,  a  depth,  which  are  not  learned  in  the 
study.  The  swift,  daring,  poignant  qualities 
of  Spanish  literature  seem  to  bear  witness  to 
the  fact  that  these  men  were  trained  for  the  pen 
by  the  sword. 

In  this,  as  in  all  else,  Cervantes  was  a  typical 
Spaniard.  He  was  a  great  personality,  a  brilliant 
soldier,  long  before  he  conceived  Don  Quixote. 
It  is  interesting  in  this  respect  to  compare 
him  with  the  greatest  of  his  contemporaries  in 
literature,  a  man  as  typically  English  as  he  was 
Spanish,  and  as  immortal  as  himself.  In  temper 
of  intellect  Shakespeare  resembled  Cervantes, 
though  he  was  incomparably  the  greater  artist ; 
they  had  passed  through  the  same  kind  of 
mental  evolution,  they  had  the  same  abounding 
humanity,  and  both  ultimately  attained  the  same 
sweet-natured,  though  profoundly  ironic  vision  of 
life.  Yet,  if  neither  of  them  had  ever  written, 
how  difi"erent,  when  the  antiquaries  had  disin- 
terred their  histories,  would  be  our  conception 
of  the  two  men.  They  were  alike  in  being  of 
somewhat  poor  parentage  and  yet  of  good 
family,  and  both  had  to  make  their  own  way 
in  the  world.     But  all  we  could  say  of  Shake- 


238  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

speare  would  be  that,  after  some  rather  dubious 
episodes  in  early  life,  he  became  a  third-rate 
actor  and  a  successful  manager ;  that,  person- 
ally, he  was  an  amiable  man,  though  punctilious 
in  business  matters  ;  and  that  his  chief  ambition 
in  life  was  to  retire  early  on  a  competency,  and 
to  write  "  Gentleman  "  after  his  name.  There 
are  millions  of  his  fellow-countrymen  of  whom 
one  could  say  as  much.  But,  if  Cervantes  had 
never  written  a  line,  he  would  still  have  seemed 
a  remarkable  man  and  a  notable  personality. 
Before  he  wrote  of  life  he  had  spent  his  best 
years  in  learning  the  lessons  of  life. 

Seldom  has  any  great  novel  been  written  by 
a  young  man :  Tristram  Shandy,  Robinson 
Crusoe,  Tom  Jones,  La  Nouvelle  Heldise, 
Wilhelm  Meister,  were  all  written  by  mature 
men  who  had  for  the  most  part  passed  middle 
age.  Don  Quixote — more  especially  the  second 
and  finer  part — was  written  by  an  old  man,  who 
had  outlived  his  ideals  and  his  ambitions,  and 
settled  down  peacefully  in  a  little  home  iu 
Madrid,  poor  of  purse  but  rich  in  the  wisdom 
garnered  during  a  variegated  and  adventurous 
life.  Don  Quixote  is  a  spiritual  autobiography. 
That  is  why  it  is  so  quintessentially  a  Spanish 
book. 

Cervantes  was  a  Spaniard  of  Spaniards.  The 
great  writers  of  a  nation  are  not  always  its  most 
typical  representatives.     Dante  could  only  have 


*DON  QUIXOTE'  239 

been  an  Italian,  and  Goethe  only  a  German,  but 
we  do  not  feel  that  either  of  them  is  the  repre- 
sentative man  of  his  people.  We  may  seek  to 
account  for  Shakespeare  by  appealing  to  various 
racial  elements  in  Great  Britain,  but  Shakespeare 
— with  his  volubility  and  extravagance,  his 
emotional  expansiveness,  his  lightness  of  touch, 
his  reckless  gaiety  and  wit — was  far  indeed 
from  the  slow,  practical,  serious  Englishman. 
Cervantes,  from  first  to  last,  is  always  Spanish. 
His  ideals  and  his  disillusions,  his  morahty  and 
his  humour,  his  artistic  methods  as  well  as  his 
style — save  that  he  took  a  few  ideas  from  Italy 
— are  entirely  Spanish.^  Don  Quixote  himself 
and  Sancho  Panza,  his  central  personages,  are 
not  only  all  Spanish,  they  are  all  Spain.  Often 
have  I  seen  them  between  Madrid  and  Seville, 
when  travelling  along  the  road  skirting  La 
Mancha,  that  Cervantes  knew  so  well :  the  long 
solemn  face,  the  grave  courteous  mien,  the 
luminous  eyes  that  seemed  fixed  on  some  inner 
vision  and  blind  to  the  facts  of  life  around ; 
and  there  also,  indeed  everywhere,  is  the  round, 
wrinkled,    good-humoured   face   of  the  peasant 

1  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  in  an  interesting  lecture  on  Cervantes's 
literary  culture  (published  iu  the  Revista  de  Archivos,  1905),  says  that 
no  jjrose  writer  influenced  Cervantes's  prose  so  much  as  Boccaccio,  but 
it  was  a  purely  formal  influence.  In  the  main  Cervantes  follows  the 
Celestina  and  Lope  de  Kaeda's  comedies  ;  he  never  directly  imitated 
the  picaresque  novelists.  Sancho  had  one  jirototype,  and  one  only, 
in  late  chivalrous  literature,  the  Ribaldo  iu  a  fourteenth  century 
Historia  del  Caballero  de  Dios. 


240  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

farmer,  imperturbably  patient,  meeting  all  tlie 
mischances  and  discomforts  of  life  with  a  smile 
and  a  jest  and  a  proverb.  "  Don  Quixote  ! " 
I  have  always  exclaimed  to  myself,  "  Sancho 
Panza ! "  They  two  make  Spain  in  our  day, 
perhaps,  even  more  than  in  Cervantes's  day ; 
for,  sound  as  Spain  still  is  at  the  core,  the  man 
of  heroic  action  and  fearless  spirit,  the  con- 
quistador type  of  man,  is  nowadays  seldom  seen 
in  the  land,  and  the  great  personalities  of  Spain 
tend  to  become  the  mere  rhetorical  ornaments 
of  a  rotten  political  system.  Don  Quixote, 
with  his  idealism,  his  pride  of  race  and  ancestry, 
his  more  or  less  dim  consciousness  of  some 
hereditary  mission  which  is  out  of  relation  to 
the  world  of  to-day,  is  as  inapt  for  the  leader- 
ship of  the  modern  world  as  Sancho  Panza,  by 
his  very  virtues,  his  brave  acceptance  of  the 
immediate  duty  before  him,  his  cheerful  and 
uncomplaining  submission  to  all  the  ills  of  life, 
is  inapt  for  the  ordinary  tasks  of  progress  and 
reform.  The  genius  of  Cervantes  has  written 
the  history  of  his  own  country. 

Even  in  the  minute  details  of  his  great  book 
we  may  detect  the  peculiarly  national  character 
of  the  mind  of  Cervantes,  and  his  thoroughly 
Spanish  tastes.  To  mention  only  one  trifling 
point,  we  may  observe  his  preference  for  the 
colour  green,  which  appears  in  his  work  in  so 
many  different  shapes.     Perhaps  the  Moors,  for 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  241 

whom  firreen  is  the  most  sacred  of  colours,  be- 
queathed  this  preference  to  the  Spaniards,  though 
in  any  case  it  is  the  favourite  colour  in  a  dry 
and  barren  land,  such  as  is  Spain  in  much  of 
its  extent.  Cervantes  admires  green  eyes,  like 
many  other  Spanish  poets,  though  unlike  the 
related  Sicilians,  for  whom  dark  eyes  alone  are 
beautiful;  Dulcinea's  eyes  are  '' verdes  esme- 
raldas."  Every  careful  reader  of  Don  Quixote, 
familiar  with  Spam,  cannot  fail  to  find  similar 
instances  of  Cervantes's  Espanolismo} 

And  yet,  on  this  intensely  national  basis,  Don 
Quixote  is  the  most  cosmopolitan,  the  most 
universal  of  books.  Not  Chaucer  or  Tolstoy 
shows  a  wider  humanity.  Even  Shakespeare 
could  not  dispense  with  a  villain,  but  there  is 
no  lago  among  the  six  hundred  and  sixty-nine 
personages  who,  it  is  calculated,  are  introduced 
into  Don  Quixote.  There  is  no  better  test  of 
a  genuinely  human  spirit  than  an  ability  to 
overcome  the  all-pervading  influences  of  religious 
and  national  bias.  Cervantes  had  shed  his  blood 
in  battle  against  the  infidel  corsairs  of  Algiers, 
and  he  had  been  their  chained  captive.  Yet — 
although  it  is  true  that  he  shared  all  the  national 
prejudices  against  the  Moriscoes  in  Spain — he 
not  only  learned  and  absorbed  much  from  the 

^  The  writer  who  adopts  the  pseudonym  of  "Dr.  Thebussem  "  has 
discussed  Cervantes's  love  of  green,  "  Lo  Verde,"  Hsjiaiia  Moderna, 
March  1894. 

R 


242  THE  SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

Eastern  life  in  which  he  had  been  soaked  for 
five  years,  but  he  acquired  a  comprehension  and 
appreciation  of  the  Moor  which  it  was  rare 
indeed  for  a  Spaniard  to  feel  for  the  hereditary 
foes  of  his  country.  Between  Portugal  and 
Spain,  again,  there  was  then,  to  an  even  greater 
extent  than  to-day,  a  spirit  of  jealousy  and 
antagonism ;  yet  Cervantes  can  never  say  too 
much  in  praise  of  Portugal  and  the  Portuguese. 
If  there  was  any  nation  whom  Spaniards  might 
be  excused  for  hating  at  that  time  it  was  the 
English.  Those  pirates  and  heretics  of  the 
north  were  perpetually  swooping  down  on  their 
coasts,  destroying  their  galleons,  devastating 
their  colonial  possessions;  Cervantes  lived  through 
the  days  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  yet  his  attitude 
towards  the  Enghsh  is  courteous  and  considerate. 
[t  was,  perhaps,  in  some  measure,  this  tole- 
rant and  even  sympathetic  attitude  towards 
the  enemies  of  Spain,  as  well  as  what  seemed 
to  many  the  ridicule  he  had  cast  upon  Spanish 
ideas  and  Spanish  foibles,  which  so  long  stood 
in  the  way  of  any  enthusiastic  recognition  by 
Spain  of  Cervantes's  supreme  place  in  literature. 
He  was  for  some  centuries  read  in  Spain,  as 
Shakespeare  was  at  first  read  in  England,  as  an 
amusing  author  before  he  was  recognised  as  one 
of  the  world's  great  spirits.  In  the  meanwhile, 
outside  Spain,  Don  Quixote  was  not  only  finding 
afiectionate  readers  among  people  of  all  ages  and 


*DON   QUIXOTE'  243 

all  classes ;  it  was  beginning  to  be  recognised  as 
a  wonderful  and  many-sided  work  of  art, — a 
treasure-house  in  which  each  might  find  what 
he  sought,  an  allegory,  even,  which  would  lend 
itself  to  all  interpretations.  Heine  has  recorded 
how,  as  a  boy  by  the  Rhine,  he  had  read  Don 
Quixote  with  laughter  and  tears,  and  how  with 
his  own  growth  the  meaning  of  the  book  grew 
with  him,  a  perpetual  inspiration.  It  is  not  alone 
the  pioneer  in  life,  the  adventurous  reformer,  the 
knight  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  turns  to  Don 
Quixote ;  the  prudent  and  sagacious  man  of  the 
world  turns  thither  also  with  a  smile  full  of 
meaning,  as  the  wise  and  sceptical  Sydenham 
turned  when  an  ambitious  young  practitioner 
of  medicine  asked  him  what  he  should  read : 
"  Read  Don  Quixote.  It  is  a  good  book.  I  read 
it  still."  And  when  we  turn  to  the  noble  ode — 
"  Letania  de  Nuestro  Senor  Don  Quijote" — which 
Ruben  Dario,  the  most  inspired  poet  of  the 
Spanish-speaking  world  of  to-day,  has  addressed 
to  Don  Quixote,  we  realise  that  beyond  this 
Cervantes  has  created  a  figure  with  even  a 
religious  significance  for  the  consolation  of  men. 
Don  Quixote  is  not  only  the  type  and  pattern 
of  our  greatest  novels ;  it  is  a  vision  of  the 
human  soul,  woven  into  the  texture  of  the  world's 
spiritual  traditions.  The  Knight  of  La  Mancha 
has  indeed  succeeded  in  his  quest,  and  won  a 
more  immortal  Dulcinea  than  he  ever  sought. 


IX 

JUAN   VALEEA 

The  death  of  Juan  Valera  a  few  years  ago 
attracted  little  attention  in  Spain,  and  was 
scarcely  noted  in  the  world  generally.  In  most 
countries  the  passing  away  of  a  great  writer  is 
the  signal  to  a  crowd  of  minor  writers  to  bring 
forward  their  tributes  of  appreciation.  Except 
one  or  two  small  pamphlets,  and  a  magazine 
article  here  and  there — notably  some  slight 
personal  reminiscences  by  his  old  friend  and 
fellow  -  novelist,  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan,  in  La 
Lectura — I  have  been  able  to  discover  nothing 
about  Valera,  no  book,  no  biography,  and  on 
the  whole  the  critics  have  meted  out  their  praise 
with  a  keener  eye  for  minor  defects  than  for  the 
great  qualities  of  style  and  personality.  Yet 
Valera  should  be  an  attractive  subject  to  the 
biographer,  for  he  was  not  only  a  great  writer, 
but  a  brilliant  and  gracious  personage  who  led 
a  varied  and  interesting  cosmopolitan  life,  and 
played  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  national  affairs 

244 


JUAN  VALERA  245 

of  his  time.  It  must,  however,  be  admitted  that 
the  same  scanty  appreciation  was  accorded  to 
Valera  by  his  fellow-countrymen  during  life. 
"  I  have,  and  shall  always  have,  few  readers," 
he  wrote  in  1877.  He  was  accustomed  to  say,  I 
have  heard,  that  the  profits  of  Fepita  Jimenez, 
his  most  popular  novel,  which  has  been  trans- 
lated into  all  the  leading  languages  of  the  world, 
had  not  enabled  him  to  buy  a  new  dress  for  his 
wife.  The  story  is  no  doubt  apocryphal,  but  his 
literary  income  was  never  large.  Fortunately, 
he  was  independent  of  it,  and  died,  in  old  age, 
cheerful,  though  blind,  among  his  books.  There 
seems  to  be  but  one  sign  of  any  perception 
among  the  Spaniards  that  in  Valera  they  possess 
one  of  the  glories  of  their  land :  with  that  local 
patriotism  that  is  always  so  strong  in  Spain,  in 
the  little  Andalusian  town  of  Cabra,  where  he 
was  born,  it  is  proposed  to  establish  in  the  house 
that  was  his  birthplace  a  museum  devoted  to 
memorials  of  his  life. 

If  we  ask  why  it  is  that  Valera  yet  meets 
with  so  little  recognition,  I  do  not  think  the 
answer  is  far  to  find.  He  always  stood  outside 
the  literary  currents  of  his  time.  He  was  never 
a  disciple  in  any  school ;  he  was  never  a  master 
in  any  school.  There  were  many  literary 
fashions  during  his  long  life :  romanticism, 
naturalism,  decadentism,  symbolism.  All  these 
currents  successively  carried  away  a  large  part 


246  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

of  literary  Spain.  Zola  and  the  naturalistic 
current,  more  especially,  disturbed  the  literary 
equilibrium  of  Spain  ;  even  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan, 
though  moving  in  the  Catholic  tradition,  was 
greatly  influenced  by  the  Goncourts  and  Zola, 
while  the  most  remarkable  of  recent  novelists, 
Blasco  Ibanez,  has  been  described  as  a  Spanish 
Zola.  But  from  the  first  Valera  remained 
serenely  unaffected  by  this  as  by  every  other 
fashionable  stream  of  tendency.  "Human 
documents,"  he  said,  "  were  out  of  place  in 
novels ;  their  proper  place  was  the  hospital 
report  or  the  asylum  bulletin."  Baudelaire, 
again,  seemed  to  Valera  perverse  and  incom- 
pletely human,  while  for  Carducci,  on  the  other 
hand,  even  when  chanting  the  praise  of  Satan, 
he  felt  strong  admiration,  because  Carducci 
represents  a  vehement  faith  in  human  life  and 
human  destiny.  In  an  article  on  "La  Moral  en 
el  Arte,"  written  in  old  age,  Valera  attempted, 
not  for  the  first  time,  to  set  forth  his  attitude  in 
this  matter.  Perfect  poetry,  he  argues, — using 
poetry  in  its  widest  sense,  to  cover  all  forms  of 
creative  literary  art, — must  exist  for  its  own  sake ; 
it  has  no  duty  save  to  be  sincere  and  to  avoid 
affectation ;  it  must  never  pretend  to  teach 
science;  it  must  never  attempt  to  inculcate 
morality.  Yet  at  the  same  time  he  asserted 
with  equal  emphasis— careless  whether  or  not 
there  lay  here  any  contradiction — that  great  art 


JUAN  VALERA  247 

is  always  true  and  always  moral.  There  is  no 
discrepancy  between  morals  and  aesthetics, 
between  the  good  and  the  beautiful.  "  Wisdom, 
beauty,  and  truth,  when  they  attain  perfection, 
coincide  and  mingle."  It  is  the  soul  of  a  good 
man  that  is  reflected  in  the  beautiful  mirror  of 
Don  Quixote.  Beauty  and  goodness  melt  into 
one  another,  yet  art  must  never  seek  morality. 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  a  writer  who,  in  the 
practice  of  his  art,  as  well  as  in  theory,  con- 
sistently maintained  this  attitude  was  little 
likely  to  win  either  the  applause  of  the  multitude 
or  the  admiration  of  the  literary  coteries.  His 
popular  contemporary,  Perez  Galdos,  who 
occupies  much  the  same  position  in  contempo- 
rary Spanish  literature  as  Bjornson  in  Norwegian, 
owes  his  great  position  largely,  not  to  purely 
artistic  qualities,  but  to  his  enlightened  and 
helpful  sympathy  in  all  the  national  progressive 
movements  of  his  fellow  -  countrymen  ;  nearly 
everything  he  has  written  may  be  said  to  have 
a  direct  tendency  —  religious,  moral,  social, 
patriotic — which  appeals  to  thousands  who  care 
nothing  for  art.  The  small  band  of  the  devotees 
of  art,  on  the  other  hand,  could  scarcely  claim 
Valera  as  an  apostle,  for  he  disdained  modernity ; 
there  is  no  phrase-chiselling  or  love  of  neologisms 
in  the  gracious  flow  of  his  large  and  simple 
style,  and  he  cannot  be  fitted  into  any  literary 
formula.      There   was    thus    always   a    certain 


248  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

distance  between  Valera  and  his  contemporaries  ; 
they  sometimes  tried  to  account  for  this  by 
calling  him  "  academical,"  and  they  bore  witness 
to  its  reality  by  instinctively  acquiring  the  habit 
— continued  even  after  his  death — of  speaking 
of  him  with  formal  respect  as  Don  Juan 
Valera. 

He  was  not  "  academical,"  but  there  was 
another  epithet  sometimes  applied  to  him  which, 
rightly  understood,  may  be  accepted  as  fitting, 
and  was  by  himself  accepted.  He  was  not 
"  classical "  in  the  narrow  sense,  though  un- 
doubtedly he  experienced  a  vivid  and  sympa- 
thetic delight  in  Greek  literature,  nor  was  his 
serene  optimism  in  the  face  of  life  that  superficial 
cheerfulness  which,  by  some  curious  misunder- 
standing, is  commonly  supposed  to  mark  the 
paganism  of  antiquity.  Valera's  Hellenism,  it  is 
true,  was  less  that  of  Pindar  and  Thucydides 
than  the  later  Alexandrian  and  cosmopolitan 
type  of  Hellenism,  that  of  Theocritus  and  the 
Daphnis  and  Chloe  which  he  translated  into 
Spanish.  But  he  was  none  the  less  genuinely 
classical,  and  even  in  a  double  sense.  He 
possessed  by  nature  the  simple  strength  and 
breadth,  the  love  of  fine  surface  and  clear  depth, 
the  delicate  taste  and  sense  of  measure,  the 
tendency  to  combine  the  real  and  ideal  har- 
moniously in  presentation — instead  of  setting 
them  in  violently  picturesque  contrast — ^which 


JUAN   VALERA  249 

marked  ancient  literature,  and  which  therefore 
always  seems  to  us  classic,  in  opposition  to 
romantic.  He  was,  further,  classic  in  a  more 
narrow  and  national  sense.  He  represented, 
more  finely  and  more  truly  than  any  of  his 
contemporaries,  the  best  ancient  traditions  of 
Spanish  literature.  He  was  a  genuine  descendant 
of  Cervantes. 

Don  Juan  Valera  y  Alcala  Galiano  was  born 
in  1824  at  Cabra,  a  provincial  town,  known  to 
the  Romans  and  famous  for  its  wines,  situated 
amid  picturesque  scenery  thirty  miles  from 
Cordova,  the  oldest  seat  of  civilisation  in  Spain. 
The  finest-tempered  brains  of  Andalusia  have 
always  come  from  the  keen  air  of  this  its 
northernmost  and  in  most  respects  its  pre- 
dominant city.  There  is  a  solemn  quiet  and 
dignity  about  Cordova  very  impressive  as  com- 
pared to  the  plebeian  rush  and  noise  of  modern 
Granada.  Even  the  scurrying  .  streams  and 
fountains  of  Granada  seem  a  little  vulgar  beside 
the  broad,  slow,  deliberate  flow  of  the  Guadal- 
quivir, with  its  smooth,  almost  mirror -like 
surface.  There  is  no  haste  about  this  city 
which  has  lived  for  so  many  years ;  for  it  is  not 
a  dead  city,  only  its  life  seems  to  have  with- 
drawn proudly  within  its  innumerable  palace- 
like patios,  rather  than  join  in  the  competition 
of  the  modern  world.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
venerable,  one  of  the  most  aristocratic  of  cities, 


250  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

a  Spanish  Eome.  Valera  was  always  proud  of 
beinor  an  Andalusian :  most  of  his  novels  have 
their  scene  in  his  native  land ;  nearly  all  his 
heroes  and  heroines  belong  to  Andalusia,  and 
especially  to  Cordova,  even  though,  like  Rafaela, 
they  live  in  South  America.  It  is,  perhaps,  not 
difficult  to  see  how  this  Andalusian  origin  has 
tempered  Yalera's  literary  personality.  His 
serene  and  sunny  optimism,  the  amenity,  the 
quiet  humour,  the  absence  of  violence  throughout 
his  work,  the  instinctively  artistic  standpoint — 
these  are  the  characteristics  which  distinguish 
the  finest  type  of  Andalusian  from  the  man  of 
either  the  east  or  the  north  of  Spain. 

Valera  was  the  son  of  a  naval  officer,  and 
aristocratically  connected  through  his  mother. 
Dona  Dolores  Alcala  Galiano,  Marquesa  de 
Paniega.  Concerning  his  early  life  the  available 
information  is  scanty.  He  was  educated  partly  at 
Malaga,  partly  at  the  College  of  the  Sacro  Monte 
at  Granada ;  he  studied  jurisprudence  and  became 
a  licentiate  in  law  in  1846.  The  Conde  de  las 
Navas  describes  him  in  early  life  as  having  black 
and  abundant  hair,  and  being  short-sighted, — 
gazing  so  fixedly  through  his  glasses  that  those 
who  talked  with  him  were  obliged  to  lower  their 
own  eyes, — while,  the  Conde  adds,  he  always 
dressed  with  immaculate  correctness. 

Through  family  influence  Valera  was  ap- 
pointed second  secretary  to  the  Spanish  Legation 


JUAN   VALERA  251 

at  Naples  in  1847,  under  the  Duke  of  Rivas,  a 
Spaniard  of  much  intellectual  distinction.  The 
two  years  he  spent  in  Naples  were  not  only,  as 
he  wrote  long  after,  the  happiest  of  his  life,  they 
were  also  its  most  critical  period.  It  was  here 
that  he  found  himself,  and  here  that  the  spirit 
which  animated  all  his  future  work  first  became 
clearly  conscious.  On  the  one  hand  the  inspira- 
tions of  the  land  of  Magna  Grsecia  induced  him 
to  make  a  thorough  study  of  Greek,  and  his 
ideals  in  art  and  poetry  were  definitely  moulded  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  great  year  of  1848 — 
when,  as  he  wrote,  "  princesses  and  even  the 
Pope  were  revolutionary  leaders  " — determined 
the  Liberalism  in  politics  to  which  he  always 
adhered,  though  he  was  never  an  ardent 
politician.  It  was  in  Naples  that  his  vocation 
became  clear  to  him.  At  the  outset  his  literary 
tendencies  were  cosmopolitan,  but  at  this  period 
the  influence  of  the  quintessentially  Spanish 
style  and  Spanish  spirit  of  Estebanez  Calderon — 
who  in  1847  published  his  Escenas  Andaluzas — 
made  Valera  a  genuinely  Castilian  writer. 

The  most  notable  point  in  the  evolution  of 
this  young  man  of  sensitive  genius,  who  thus 
awoke  to  spiritual  life  at  the  most  vital  moment 
in  the  whole  nineteenth  century,  was  the  manner 
in  which  he  escaped  the  most  fascinating  and 
characteristic  literary  movement  of  that  time. 
The  romantic  wave  was  sweeping  over  Europe, 


252  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

but  although  it  had  received  part  of  its 
inspiration  from  Spain,  and  was  now  affecting 
nearly  all  the  Spanish  men  of  letters,  Yalera, 
then  and  always,  remained  absolutely  untouched 
by  it.  Beneath  his  suavity  Valera  possessed 
in  fall  measure  the  firm  independence  of  the 
Spaniard,  and  followed  the  inspiration  of  his 
own  native  genius.  In  1864,  in  the  very 
interesting  Dedication  of  his  Estudios  Criticos 

o 

to  the  Duke  of  Rivas,  he  wrote  :  "  Even  in  the 
epoch  of  the  chief  fervour  and  supremacy  of 
romanticism  I  have  never  been  a  romantic,  but  in 
my  manner  classical — a  manner,  certainly,  very 
different  from  the  pseudo-classicism  of  France. 
I  worshipped  form,  but  it  was  the  internal  and 
spiritual  form,  not  over-adorned,  puerile,  and 
affected.  I  was  a  fervid  believer  in  the 
mysteries  of  style,  in  that  simplicity  and  purity 
by  which  style  realises  ideas  and  feelings,  and 
embodies  in  language  of  indestructible  charm  an 
author's  whole  mind  and  heart." 

Valera  was,  however,  in  no  haste  to  be  an 
author,  and  although  it  would  appear  that  he 
began  to  write  in  verse  at  this  time  it  was  not 
until  1858  that  his  first  volume,  Poesias, 
appeared.  Valera's  verse  is  of  a  deliberate  and 
somewhat  learned  order,  revealing  the  influence 
of  the  Greeks  and  also  of  the  Italians.  Leopardi 
is  the  poet  whom  he  more  especially  recalls,  and 
it  has  been  said  that  he  wrote  like   Leopardi 


JUAN  VALERA  253 

even  "before  he  knew  his  work  and  became  a 
passionate  admirer  of  it.  In  this  volume  was 
fully  revealed  that  Platonism  which  subtly 
penetrated  the  whole  of  his  work.  "  Erotic 
Platonism,"  said  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  "  is  the  soul 
of  Valera's  amatory  verses  " :  love  is  to  him  a 
continuous  progress  from  beautiful  bodies  to 
beautiful  souls,  and  thence  to  the  idea  of  beauty 
itself,  while  he  also  hovers  over  the  Platonic 
doctrine  of  reminiscence  and  Plotinus's  notion  of 
nature  as  the  mirror  of  the  formula  of  beauty. 
Such  Platonic  suggestions  occur  again  and  again 
throughout  his  novels  even  in  the  unlikeliest 
places.  In  the  Dedication  of  Dona  Luz  he 
seeks  a  moral  for  his  story — notwithstanding  his 
dislike  of  stories  with  morals — in  a  Platonic 
passage  from  Bembo,  and  in  Genio  y  Figura  he 
represents  Eafaela  la  Generosa,  after  her  bath, 
kissing  her  image  in  the  mirror,  and  explaining 
the  act  in  the  spirit  of  a  Platonism  which  would 
scarcely  have  presented  itself  to  the  courtesan  of 
Cadiz.^ 

It  could  not  be  expected  that  the  public  would 

^  This  spirit  is,  however,  quite  Spanish.  Neo-PIatonism,  especially 
ia  its  relation  to  beauty  and  love,  may  be  said  to  occupy  the  chief 
place  in  the  philosophy  of  the  Spanish  Renaissance  ;  it  is  studied  at 
length  by  Menendez  y  Pelayo  in  the  second  volume  of  his  Htstoria  de 
las  Ideas  Estdicas  en  Espana.  The  fifteenth  century  Leon  Hebreo  (or 
Judah  Abarbanel),  a  Neo-Platonic  Spanish  Jew  soaked  in  Hellenism,  is 
regarded  as  one  of  the  philosophic  glories  of  Spain,  and  his  influence 
extends  through  the  golden  age  of  Siianish  literature  to  Cervantes 
whose  Galatea  in  its  Neo-Platonism  closely  follows  Leon  Hebreo. 


254  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

be  interested  in  the  restrained  and  aristocratic  art 
of  the  Poesias.  Valera  now  turned  to  criticism 
for  self-expression,  but  he  always  cherished  a  love 
for  poetry,  and  regarded  himself  as  a  poet  even 
in  his  novels,  while  to  the  last,  also,  he  was  very 
susceptible  to  any  praise  of  his  verse.  In  the 
Preface  which  he  wrote  at  Washington  in  1885 
for  the  collected  edition  of  his  Romances, 
Canciones  y  Poesias,  he  affirmed :  "  The  prin- 
cipal reason  for  writing  is  poetry.  Writings 
become  famous  and  immortal  by  their  beauty 
and  not  by  the  truth  they  teach.  The  pre- 
tension of  those  who  believe  that  it  is  possible 
to  teach  by  writing  is  nearly  always  vain.  The 
great  masters  of  humanity  write  nothing,  neither 
Christ,  nor  Sakyamuni,  nor  Pythagoras,  nor 
Socrates." 

In  the  meanwhile,  in  the  course  of  his 
diplomatic  career,  Valera  was  promoted  to  more 
and  more  important  posts,  first  to  Lisbon 
(1850),  then  to  Brazil  (1851),  where  he  first 
knew  a  charming  child,  the  daughter  of  his 
chief,  who  was,  sixteen  years  later,  to  become 
his  wife.  In  1854  he  was  at  Dresden,  in  1856 
secretary  to  a  special  mission  to  Russia,  in  1865 
plenipotentiary  at  Frankfort. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  life,  when  he  had 
reached  full  maturity,  that  Valera  became, 
almost,  it  would  seem,  by  accident,  though  his 
ambition  had  long  pointed  in  this  direction,  a 


JUAN   VALERA  255 

novelist.  His  earlier  literary  occupations,  the 
whole  course  of  his  life,  were  admirably  fitted  to 
prepare  him  for  the  literary  work  which  more 
than  all  others  demands  a  wide  and  mature 
experience  of  the  world.  It  seems  to  have  been 
out  of  the  sympathetic  interest  which  the  poet 
and  artist  in  Valera  felt  towards  mysticism,  and 
in  the  inspiration  which  his  style  received  from 
reading  the  old  mystics,  Luis  de  Granada  and 
Saint  Theresa,  that  Fepita  Jimenez  was  slowly 
developed,  although  the  sceptic  and  the  cosmo- 
politan in  Valera  saved  him  from  any  undue 
insistence  on  this  mystic  interest.  He  at  first 
thought,  we  are  told,  of  writing  a  kind  of  dis- 
sertation or  philosophic  dialogue  on  the  eternal 
conflict  between  body  and  spirit,  between  nature 
and  mysticism,  but  the  happy  idea  came  of 
making  the  dissertation  a  novel.  The  story  is 
that  of  a  simple,  sincere,  and  serious  young 
Spaniard,  who  is  preparing  himself  whole- 
heartedly for  the  career  of  a  priest,  but  gradually 
realises  that  he  has  no  true  avocation  after  he 
meets  a  young  widow  of  twenty-eight,  Pepita 
Jimenez,  who  falls  in  love  with  him.  With  an 
almost  unconscious  art,  which  is  more  than  half 
nature,  and  never  for  a  moment  robs  her  of  her 
feminine  charm,  Pepita  cannot  rest  until,  slowly 
conquering  the  reserves  of  his  temperament  and 
the  scruples  of  his  spurious  vocation,  she  has 
finally  won  him.     The  fine  quality  of  the  novel 


256  THE   SOUL   OF  SPAIN 

lies  very  largely  in  the  delicate  skill  with  which 
Valera  has  avoided  the  pitfalls  which  beset  such 
a  story,  harmonising  all  the  conflicting  interests 
and  impulses  involved,  and  infusing  the  whole 
with  the  temper  of  his  own  mingled  gaiety  and 
dignity.  The  book  was  in  every  respect  a 
triumphant  achievement,  and  it  placed  its 
author  at  once,  for  the  first  and  perhaps  it  may 
be  said  the  last  time,  on  a  pinnacle  of  popular 
success.  In  Spain  Valera  is  still  commonly 
spoken  of  as  the  author  of  Pepita  Jimenez. 

In  Pepita  herself,  who  may  almost  be  called 
the  hero  of  the  story,  we  meet  at  the  outset  one 
of  the  most  typical  of  Valera's  women.  They 
are  not  generally  in  their  first  youth,  but  they 
retain  the  qualities  of  virginal  youthfulness 
combined  with  the  energy  and  experience  of 
maturity.  They  belong  to  the  country  or  to 
small  country  towns,  sometimes  to  the  country 
aristocracy,  sometimes  to  the  poorest  elements 
of  the  population,  not  seldom  they  are  illegiti- 
mate children,  combining  an  aristocratic  dis- 
tinction with  plebeian  vigour ;  in  any  case  they 
are  represented  as  the  finest  flower  of  country 
life.  Their  skill  and  discretion  is  always 
emphasised  as  well  as  their  physical  energy. 
Dona  Luz  could  dance  like  a  sylph,  ride  like  an 
Amazon,  and  in  her  walk  resembled  the  divine 
huntress  of  Delos,  and  Rosita  is  similarly  com- 
pared to  Diana.     Emilia  Pardo  Bazan  has  well 


JUAN   VALERA  257 

described  the  general  character  of  Valera's 
women.  "Observe,"  she  says,  "that  Valera's 
heroines  greatly  resemble  one  another  ;  we  notice 
a  family  air,  notwithstanding  their  difference  in 
position,  behaviour,  and  birth,  between  Dona 
Luz,  Pepita,  Calitea,  Juanita,  and  Kafaela. 
Many  believe  that  all  these  women  possess  the 
soul  and  mind  of  their  author  incarnated  in  a 
feminine  body.  They  personify  women  accord- 
ing to  the  classic  ideal,  the  women  of  the 
sixteenth  century  and  the  Spanish  Renaissance, 
discreet  and  even  learned  with  all  their  womanli- 
ness, delicate  and  resolute,  philosophical,  pre- 
cieuse,  not  sentimental  and  nervous,  more 
theological  than  devout,  free  and  bold  in  their 
language,  impetuous  in  love,  but  ardent  in 
defending  their  honour,  very  subtle,  yet  not 
perverted,  or  if,  like  Rafaela,  they  become  so, 
knowing  how  to  preserve  a  certain  dignity 
analogous  to  the  feeling  of  honour  in  men.  It 
would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  Spanish 
women  in  general  to-day  resemble  Valera's 
heroines,  who  are  more  virile,  more  intellectual, 
more  martial  and  decided,  than  most  of  their 
fellow -countrywomen.  We  must  seek  their 
ancestry  in  Tirso's  plays  and  the  novels  of 
Maria  de  Zayas."  Certainly  the  average  middle- 
class  woman  of  to-day  has  little  resemblance  to 
Valera's  women,  but  Valera  himself  would  prob- 
ably have  been  the  first  to  admit  this.     He  has 


258  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

chosen  carefully  selected  types,  occurring  under 
special  yet  peculiarly  Spanish  conditions  out  of 
the  beaten  track.     According  to  his  method,  he 
mingled  the  real  and  the  ideal,  certainly  utilising 
— in  Juanita  la  Larga,  his  most  detailed  portrait 
of  a  woman,  very  fully  and  precisely — his  own 
observation  and  early  reminiscence.    The  essential 
qualities  of  Valera's  women  correspond  to  the 
qualities  we  may  see  or  divine  in  the  ordinary 
working-class  women  of  Spain  to-day,  and  the 
fundamental  veracity  of  the  types  he  presents  is 
sufficiently    evidenced    by    the    likeness    they 
reveal  to  the  heroines  of  Cervantes  and  Tirso  de 
Molina,  of  all  Spanish  writers  those  who  have 
most  faithfully  presented  the  genuine  Spaniard.^ 
Having  at  length  found  himself  in  literature, 
and  gathered  together  an  audience,  Valera  began 
to  write  with  an  energy  and  a  slowly  growing 
freedom  and  personality  of  touch  that  he  had 
not  before  shown.     Pepita  Jimenez  was  quickly 
followed  by  Dona  Luz.     Here,  indeed,  though 
he  writes  in  a  less  impersonal  manner  than  in 
the  earlier  novel,  he  clings  a  little  timidly  to  the 
same  subject — the  conflict  between  religion  and 
love.     A  pious  friar  in   broken  health   returns 
from    a    life   devoted   to   good   works    in    the 

1  Dofia  Pardo  Bazan  herself,  in  a  later  criticism  of  Valera,  recog- 
nises the  reality  of  Valera's  women  as  portraits,— though  not  admit- 
ting the  Valerian  style  of  their  conversation,— and  adds  that  she  has 
herself  known  various  women  like  Pepita  Jimenez  even  in  a  city  so 
far  from  Andalusia  as  Santiago  de  Compostela. 


JUAN  VALERA  259 

Philippines  to  his  native  town  in  Andalusia, 
and  here  gradually  falls  in  love  with  a  noble- 
man's illegitimate  daughter  who  has  long  lived 
in  seclusion  in  the  same  place.  He  never 
declares  his  passion  except  in  a  manuscript 
which  chances  to  fall  into  the  lady's  hand  after 
his  death  ;  she,  on  her  side,  felt  for  the  gentle 
monk  a  tender  friendship  which  moved  towards 
the  verge  of  love,  but,  as  she  was  able  to  per- 
suade herself,  never  entered  that  verge.  It  is 
not  a  story  which  lends  itself  to  the  dramatic 
and  effective  situations  of  Pepita  Jimenez,  but 
it  is  developed  with  the  same  delicacy  and  skill, 
— indeed,  perhaps  in  an  even  greater  degree, — 
and  takes  high  rank  among  Valera's  books. 

Las  Ilusiones  del  Doctor  Faustino  marks  a 
further  progress  along  the  path  of  freedom  in 
narrative,  and  in  Valera's  tendency  to  give  a 
more  and  more  personal  character  to  his  books. 
This  was  not  entirely  a  sound  tendency,  for  it 
sometimes  led  to  the  introduction  of  a  way- 
war  dly  fantastic  element  as  well  as  to  many 
scarcely  relevant  digressions.  Doctor  Faustino 
is  lengthier  than  usual ;  it  is  a  series  of  loosely 
connected  episodes,  some  of  which  for  the  first 
time  show  a  love  of  incidents  lying  on  the  border 
of  the  mysterious,  which  in  some  later  books, 
especially  Morsomor,  becomes  pronounced  and 
is  associated  with  the  weakest  elements  in  his 
work.     There  is,  however,  a  seriously  symbolic 


260  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

idea  running  through  Las  Uusiones  del  Doctor 
Faustino.  The  hero,  a  miniature  Faust  without 
supernatural  accompaniments,  represents  the 
Spaniard  of  the  contemporary  generation,  "  a 
man  of  noble  and  generous  nature,  though 
vitiated  by  a  perverse  education  and  by  the 
environment  in  which  he  has  lived."  He  com- 
bines the  three  defects  most  apt  to  afflict  the 
educated  middle-class  Spaniard  :  pedantic  philo- 
sophy, uncombined  with  energy  for  the  tasks  of 
life,  political  ambition  with  failure  to  distinguish 
true  liberty  from  tumult  and  disorder,  the  mania 
of  noble  descent  united  with  complete  lack  of 
aptitude  for  practical  affairs.  Apart  from  the 
charm  of  certain  figures  and  episodes  in  it,  the 
book  thus  has  a  serious  interest  as  Valera's  chief 
contribution  to  the  criticism  of  contemporary 
Spanish  conditions. 

Valera's  personality  as  an  artist,  as  a  master 
of  the  novel,  was  now  firmly  established,  and  in 
a  number  of  shorter  stories,  at  times  contes 
somewhat  in  the  manner  of  Voltaire,  as  well  as 
in  a  constant  succession  of  delightful  essays,  in 
which  usually  some  new  book  or  topic  of  the 
moment  is  made  the  excuse  for  discussing  the 
most  various  subjects,  his  philosophy  and  moral 
personality  now  began  to  be  clearly  visible. 
As  a  literary  critic  of  modern  writers  it  can 
scarcely  be  said  that  Valera  is  at  his  best.  A 
very  courteous  and  considerate  gentleman,  who 


JUAN  VALERA  261 

occupies  a  high  social  and  intellectual  position 
and  knows  everybody,  is  not  likely  to  be  an 
epoch-making  critic.  We  see  the  impossibility 
of  real  criticism  under  such  conditions  in  the 
futility  of  Sainte-Beuve's  later  work  with  its 
excessive  politeness  towards  everybody  all  round. 
As  Valera  was  incapable  of  saying  a  bitter  or 
cruel  thing  either  in  public  or  in  private,  and 
happened  to  be  out  of  sympathy  with  the  chief 
literary  fashions  of  his  day,  he  avoided  concern- 
ing himself  with  their  representatives,  carefully 
neglecting  to  read  some  of  the  most  popular  con- 
temporary novelists ;  he  usually  confined  him- 
self to  the  sometimes  rather  extravagant  eulogy 
of  minor  writers,  or  else  to  classic  books  where 
he  was  at  his  best  as  a  critic.  Once,  indeed,  he 
had  a  famous  controversy  on  poetry  and  meta- 
physics with  the  distinguished  poet  Campoamor, 
but,  as  Valera  was  careful  to  point  out,  their 
polemics  were  of  a  purely  playful  kind  and 
revealed  no  violent  difibrence  of  opinion.  Cam- 
poamor defends  the  utility  of  poetry  and  meta- 
physics ;  Valera,  in  accordance  with  the  principles 
he  always  maintained,  affirms  their  inutility, 
and  denies  even  to  the  drama  the  right  of 
presenting  moral  lessons.  As  to  metaphysics, 
Valera  declares  that  he  has  read  many  meta- 
physical systems  :  they  enchant  him  ;  he  marvels 
at  them ;  but  they  do  not  convince  him  that 
metaphysics  is  anything  more  than  a  science  of 


262  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

pure  luxury.  Valera  carried  something  of  the 
same  spirit  of  genial  scepticism  into  all  spheres 
of  thought.  We  may  perhaps  say  of  him  as  he 
says  of  his  heroine  Calitea  in  La  Buena  Fama, 
"  sometimes  she  doubted  about  everything, 
sometimes  she  believed  a  little,  sometimes  she 
believed  nothing."  He  might  have  added  that 
sometimes  she  believed  everything,  for  Valera's 
attitude  was  inconsistent  with  contempt  or 
indifiference  for  any  genuine  human  belief.  He 
objected  to  call  anything  "  fabulous,"  because, 
he  said,  "  so  bold  and  offensive  a  qualification 
can  to-day  be  applied  to  hardly  anything. 
There  are  no  limits  to  the  possible."  So  it  was 
that  when,  in  1899,  the  hour  of  Spain's  dejection 
in  the  war  with  the  United  States,  Valera 
turned  back  to  the  days  when  Spain  was  great 
and  wrote  his  Morsomor,  the  story  of  a 
Franciscan  monk  in  Seville  in  the  early  six- 
teenth century,  he  introduced  Mahatmas  and 
the  paraphernalia  of  occultism,  which  latterly 
acquired  a  peculiar  fascination  for  him. 

Valera,  it  has  been  said,  was  of  the  school  of 
Montaigne  and  of  Goethe ;  it  might  be  added 
that  both  in  thought  and  in  morals  his  attitude 
was  even  closer  to  that  of  Renan.  His  scepticism 
was  always  tolerant,  even  when  it  could  not  be 
sympathetic,  and  always  allied  to  the  optimistic 
temper.  "  The  Muse  that  has  inspired  me,"  he 
remarks  in  the  prologue  to  his  tales  De  Varios 


JUAN  VALERA  263 

Color es,  "  is  neither  melancholy  nor  tragic,  but 
joyous  and  cheerful,  as  is  fitting  to  console  me 
for  my  real  griefs,  and  not  to  increase  their 
weight  by  imaginary  troubles."  Valera  remained 
a  child  of  Spain,  where,  if  the  sinners  have  some- 
times been  grave,  even  the  saints  have  often  been 
gay,  as  they  felt  that  it  befitted  them  to  be. 

Valera's  practical  moral  attitude  towards  his 
fellow-men,  what  he  himself  called  his  Panphilism, 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  conte,  somewhat  in  the 
manner  of  Voltaire,  called  "Parsondes,"  published 
in  the  volume  of  Cuentos,  Dialogos  y  Fantasias. 
Once  upon  a  time,  more  than  two  thousand 
six  hundred  years  ago,  there  was  a  satrap  at 
Susa  much  loved  by  the  great  king  of  the  Medes, 
Arteo,  for  he  was  the  gravest  and  most  moral  of 
all  the  satraps.  This  holy  and  austere  man, 
whose  name  was  Parsondes,  knew  and  taught  all 
the  wisdom  of  Zoroaster  ;  at  last  he  disappeared, 
and  all  good  believers  held  that  he  had  been 
taken  up  into  the  highest  circle  of  light ;  his 
memory,  therefore,  was  almost  worshipped. 
When  on  earth  he  had  often  reproved  Nanar, 
king  of  Babylon,  a  tributary  of  the  great  king 
of  the  Medes,  for  his  dissolute  manner  of  living, 
and  report  was  at  length  brought  to  Arteo  that 
Parsondes  was  killed  or  perhaps  imprisoned  by 
Nanar.  Thereupon  Arteo  sent  one  of  Parsondes's 
most  faithful  disciples  to  investigate  the  matter, 
for  he  suspected  that  Parsondes  might  still  be 


264  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

alive,  even  though  perhaps  undergoing  insuffer- 
able torments.  At  last,  in  self-defence,  and  to 
the  stupefaction  of  the  faithful  disciple,  Nanar 
produced  the  holy  man,  perfumed  and  dressed 
like  a  king,  in  the  midst  of  a  band  of  lovely- 
women  who  accompanied  him  dancing  and  sing- 
ing. "  I  am  other  than  I  was,"  Parsondes  said. 
"  Return  if  you  will  to  Susa,  but  say  not  that  I 
still  live,  lest  the  Magi  be  scandalised  and  lose  so 
recent  an  example  of  sanctity.  Nanar  avenged 
himself  on  my  rough  and  reckless  virtue  by 
making  me  a  prisoner,  commanding  that  I  should 
be  soaped  and  rubbed  with  towels.  Since  then  I 
have  continued  to  bathe  and  perfume  myself 
twice  a  day,  feasting  as  I  might  desire,  and 
forcing  myself  to  accept  the  company  of  these 
joyous  ladies,  at  last  forgetting  Zoroaster  and  my 
austere  preaching,  being  convinced  that  we 
should  seek  to  spend  this  life  in  the  best  way 
possible,  and  not  concern  ourselves  with  the  faults 
of  others.  Needless  troubles  kill  the  fool,  and 
no  one  is  more  a  fool  than  he  who  worries  himself 
to  censure  the  vices  of  others  merely  because  he 
has  had  no  opportunity  of  falling  into  them  him- 
self, or  else  has  failed  to  fall  into  them  from 
ignorance,  bad  taste,  or  rusticity."  On  hearing 
these  words  the  faithful  disciple  put  his  hands  to 
his  ears  and  rushed  away  from  the  palace,  de- 
termined to  advise  the  College  of  the  Magi 
to   continue   to   maintain   that    Parsondes   had 


JUAN   VALERA  265 

ascended  into  the  empyrean,  and  never  to  reveal 
that  he  was  still  alive  among  the  dancing-girls 
of  Babylon.  This  delightful  conte  moral,  in 
which  Valera  playfully  set  forth  the  moral 
temper  which  all  his  work  reveals,  may  perhaps 
recall  L'Ahhesse  de  Jouarre,  in  which  Renan, 
also  in  old  age,  pointed  a  not  dissimilar  moral, 
while  we  may  remember  how  Goethe,  even  in 
youth,  had  been  impressed  by  the  saying  of  the 
humane  and  yet  austere  Thraseas :  Qui  vitia 
odit  homines  odit,  He  who  hates  vices  hates  man- 
kind. For,  as  the  younger  Pliny  said,  indulgence 
is  a  part  of  justice. 

While  Valera  was  thus  at  the  height  of  his 
literary  activity,  and  harmoniously  developing 
those  conceptions  of  life  and  the  world  which 
underwent  no  substantial  change  from  first  to 
last,  his  diplomatic  and  political  career  pursued 
its  regular  course  of  promotion.  After  the  Revolu- 
tion of  1868,  when  Isabella  lost  the  throne,  he 
became  an  Under-Secretary  of  State,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  chief  members  of  the  deputation  which 
invited  Amadeo  to  the  throne  of  Spain.  In  1881 
he  was  plenipotentiary  at  Lisbon,  in  1883  at 
Washington,  in  1886  at  Brussels,  and  in  1893  he 
was  appointed  ambassador  in  Vienna.  Though 
never  a  strenuous  politician,  he  was  at  one  time 
a  deputy  in  the  Cortes  and  a  member  of  several 
Liberal  Cabinets.  At  a  later  period  he  became 
a  senator  for  life.     He  had  three  children  :  the 


266  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

death  of  one  son  was  a  great  grief;  the  other 
has,  to  some  extent,  followed  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps ;  the  daughter  is  married  to  a  diplomatist. 
Two  novels — Juanita  la  Larga  and  Genio  y 
Figura — which  belong  to  the  most  mature  period 
of  Valera's  art  deserve  special  mention,  because 
they  stand  in  the  first  rank  of  his  work.  Juanita 
la  Larga,  the  history  of  a  young  country  girl 
who  by  her  own  sterling  personal  qualities 
surmounts  all  the  difficulties  in  her  path,  is  a 
minute  and  delightful  picture  of  rural  Andalusian 
life,  avowedly  founded  on  reminiscences  of  a 
childhood  and  youth  spent  in  the  province  of 
Cordova.  In  the  preface  Valera  remarks,  indeed, 
that  he  scarcely  knows  whether  the  book  is  or  is 
not  a  novel,  for  he  is  here  a  historian  rather  than 
an  inventive  novelist.  Juanita  la  Larga  diff'ers 
from  nearly  all  Valera's  books  by  presenting 
almost  exclusively  the  lives  of  simple  and 
uncultivated  persons,  presenting  them  indeed 
graciously,  harmoniously,  humorously,  without 
any  of  the  crudity  which  was  constitutionally 
alien  to  Valera's  temperament,  but  yet  with  a 
realism  which  proves  that,  whatever  his  dislike 
of  the  French  naturalistic  novel,  he -was  still  true 
to  the  traditions  of  the  Spanish  novel.  For  in 
the  fundamental  sense  the  Spanish  novelists, 
with  Cervantes  at  their  head,  have  always 
been  realists,  in  the  same  way  in  which  in 
England  Fielding  and  Defoe  were  realists. 


JUAN  VALERA  267 

The  same  realism,  combined  with  the  same 
wholesome  and  joyous  vision  of  human  life  in  a 
more  difficult  situation,  meet  us  in  Genio  y 
Figura,  the  last  in  date  of  Valera's  great  novels, 
the  most  mature,  the  most  daring,  perhaps  the 
finest.  It  is  the  story  of  a  woman  who,  like 
Juanita,  and  with  similar  high  qualities  of  intelli- 
gence and  character,  though  not  the  same  ideals 
of  conventional  morality,  springs  from  nothing, 
and  slowly  living  down  social  disapprobation  wins 
general  esteem  and  respect.  Rafaela  la  Generosa 
is  a  beautiful  and  spirited  young  courtesan  from 
Cadiz,  who  has  a  charming  voice  and  an  accom- 
plished way  of  dancing  the  fandango  and  the 
jaleo.  She  is  much  admired  by  the  dandies  of 
Lisbon,  one  of  whom,  impressed  by  her  abilities, 
helps  her  to  go  out  to  Brazil  as  a  dancer,  and 
recommends  her  to  the  notice  of  a  rich  old 
usurer  at  Rio  de  Janeiro.  Under  his  protection 
she  appears  in  public  at  Rio  as  a  dancer,  but  is 
at  first  driven  off  the  stage,  for  the  old  man's 
sordid  and  ridiculous  ways  have  made  him 
unpopular  and  discredited  Rafaela.  But  with 
her  good  sense  and  good  humour  Rafaela,  who 
has  all  the  Spanish  stoicism,  accepts  as  a  joke 
the  vegetables  that  are  flung  at  her,  slowly  wins 
her  way,  and  gains  the  love  of  the  old  man, 
whom  she  marries.  Her  task  is  still,  however, 
but  beginning ;  she  has  to  acquire  social  con- 
sideration   not    only    for    herself   but    for    her 


268  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

husband ;  she  teaches   him    good   manners,    in- 
structs him  in  the  mysteries  of  the  toilet,  and 
puts  him  in  the  hands  of  the  best  tailors.     At 
the  same  time  the  influence  of  her  sagacity  and 
economy  are  shown  in  his  affairs  generally,  and 
she  helps  him  to  employ  his  money  wisely  and 
beneficently.      The    couple  begin   to   overcome 
indifference   and   hostility,    and   to   win    social 
consideration  and  position ;  the  highest  aristoc- 
racy   are   eventually  to   be    found  in  Rafaela's 
salon.     While,  however,  she  is  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  her  husband,  it  is  esteem  and  friend- 
ship that  she  gives  him,  not  love.     Her   love 
goes  in  other  directions,  but  even  in  following 
the  impulses  of  her  heart  Kafaela  shows  her  usual 
skill  and  discretion,  and  is  careful  to  spare  her 
husband's  feelings.     There  is  only  one  man  whom 
she  truly  loves,  an  Englishman,  and  by  him  she 
has  a  child,  a  daughter  named  Lucia,  whose  birth 
she  keeps  secret,  for  she  considers  it  dishonour- 
able to  foist  her  child  on  her  husband.     Rafaela 
has  her  daughter  very  carefully  educated  in  a 
convent,   and  when  she  becomes  a  widow  she 
settles  in  Paris  and  fixes  all  her  hopes  on  this 
girl,  cherishing  the  notion  that  in  her  she  may 
realise  the  ideals  that  in  her  own  struggling  and 
irregular  life  she  has  missed,  though  at  times, 
indeed,  with  her  sagacious  intelligence,  she  doubts 
the  value  of  an  innocence  never  fortified  by  trial. 
But  her  doubts  are  settled  by  Lucia,  who,  in  a 


JUAN  VALERA  269 

moment  of  grief,  due  to  the  refusal  of  her  father 
to  recognise  her,  takes  the  veil  and  shuts  herself 
in  the  convent  for  ever,  whereupon  Rafaela, 
deprived  of  her  one  hope  in  life,  takes  poison  and 
dies.  Such  is  the  story  of  a  novel  in  which 
Valera  has  put  the  most  personal  and  mature 
spirit  of  his  wisdom  and  humanity,  a  novel  in 
which  realism  and  poetry  are  wrought  together 
with  an  art  and  a  charm  that  may  well  entitle 
it  to  rank  as  a  masterpiece. 

The  novelist's  last  years  were  spent  in 
Madrid,  surrounded  by  affectionate  and  dis- 
tinguished friends,  cheerful,  amiable,  dignified 
to  the  end,  though  for  several  years  before  his 
death  he  was  blind  from  cataract  of  both  eyes. 
He  was  one  of  the  few  great  men,  says  his 
friend,  the  Conde  de  las  Navas,  who  are  such 
even  to  their  valets.  He  continued  to  live  in 
his  study  and  to  write  essays,  though  now  he 
dictated  them  to  a  secretary,  and  his  last 
volume  of  essays,  Terapeutica  Social,  was 
published  only  a  month  before  his  death.  His 
habits  were  simple ;  he  liked  the  plain  Cordovan 
dishes  of  his  own  province,  and  he  drank  light 
white  wine  ;  like  all  Spaniards,  he  smoked  much. 
Notwithstanding  his  blindness,  he  would  still 
accompany  his  lady  visitors  to  the  door,  and 
he  always  made  it  a  rule  to  be  present  at  the 
sittings  of  the  Spanish  Academy.  The  last  task 
entrusted  to  him  was  a  discourse  on  Cervantes  to 


270  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

be  read  before  the  Academy  on  the  occasion  of 
the  commemoration  of  the  tercentenary  of  Don 
Quixote.  He  was  able  to  write  most  of  his  dis- 
course, but  not  all.  He  died,  just  before  the 
festivities  of  the  tercentenary,  of  apoplexy,  on 
the  18th  of  April  1905. 

It  has  already  been  necessary  to  point  out 
that  Valera  stood  a  little  aloof  and  alien 
from  the  most  popular  men  and  movements  of 
his  time.  He  was  not  a  partizan,  he  was  too 
wise  and  clear-sighted  to  be  a  fanatic  even  on 
behalf  of  the  causes  he  believed  in.  Galdos, 
his  contemporary  as  a  novelist,  though  much 
younger  in  years,  has  again  and  again  aroused 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  more  progressive  Spanish 
public  who,  except  when  Pepita  Jimenez  was 
published,  have  always  been  unresponsive  to  the 
wisdom  of  Valera.^  Blasco  Ibanez,  the  Valen- 
cian,  the  latest  of  the  really  significant  novelists 
of  Spain,  is  still  farther  away  from  the  spirit 
of  Valera.  Rough,  vigorous,  not  always  even 
grammatical,  sometimes  crudely  naturalistic, 
sometimes  breaking  out  into  impassioned  lyri- 
cism, always  an   uncompromising  revolutionist, 

^  Galdos  was  born  in  1855  at  Las  Palmas  in  the  Canaries,  where 
he  lived  till  the  age  of  eighteen,  amid  a  population  that  was  half 
English.  He  knows  English,  and  was  much  influenced  by  Dickens, 
afterwards  a  little  by  Zola.  He  is  said  to  be  not  quite  sympathetic 
in  personal  intercourse,  silent,  observant,  and  ironical,  so  that  his 
friends  are  in  doubt  whether  to  admire  his  Castilian  gravity  or  to 
wonder  at  his  British  phlegm.  (See  an  article  on  Galdos  by  Marti- 
nenche  in  the  Bevue  des  Deux  Mondes,  15th  April  1906.) 


JUAN   VALERA  271 

aggressive  and  combative,  ardently  concerned 
with  social  problems,  and  a  faithful  painter  of 
the  common  people  whose  life  he  knows  so  well, 
Blasco  Ibanez  is  a  great  force  in  literature,  but 
he  is  far  indeed  from  the  sunny  and  serene 
Greek  temper  of  Valera.^ 

"  I  have  always  been  inspired,"  Valera  once 
wrote,  "by  the  pure  love  of  beauty."  In  a 
certain  sense  his  novels  have  the  quality  of 
poetry,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  many 
authoritative  Spanish  critics  of  to-day  are 
inclined  to  deny  to  him  any  high  place  as  a 
novelist.  He  is  too  cold  and  correct,  they  say  ; 
his  characters  speak  as  he  would  himself  speak ; 
he  is  more  concerned  with  expressing  himself 
than  with  creating  original  types,  or  objectively 
describing  the  real  people  of  the  real  world 
around  him.  Even  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan,  whose 
own  mastery  of  the  craft  entitles  her  opinion  to 
respect,  considers  that  Valera  was  not  a  born 
novelist  like  Dickens  or  Galdos,  and  somewhat 
too  bookish,  Ubresco.  There  is  a  certain  amount 
of  truth  in  these  criticisms.  Yet  Valera  is  in 
little  need  of  apology ;  his  books  are  their 
own  sufficient  justification ;  they  constitute  an 
achievement  in  Spanish  literature.  The  Spanish 
genius,  though  never  gross  and  sensual,  is  some- 
times  sombre    and    violent.      But    if   it   burns 

'  An  interesting  sketch  of  Blasco  Ibanez's  turbulent  and  adven- 
turous career  will  be  found  in  Le  Censeur,  6th  April  1907. 


272  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

smokily  in  its  lower  ranges,  in  its  higher  reaches 
it  bursts  into  gay  and  lucent  flame.  It  is  so  in 
Velazquez  ;  it  is  so  in  Cervantes.  Valera  is  not 
indeed  with  these  men ;  his  fine  superficies  and 
breadth  are  not  accompanied  by  the  passion 
and  intensity  needed  for  self-realisation  in  the 
highest  original  achievement.  But  he  has  the 
temperament  of  these  supreme  men,  their  vision, 
their  clarity,  their  serenity,  their  humanity.  His 
best  works  are  a  fine  and  permanent  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Spanish  spirit,  and  the  personality 
that  produced  them  is  even  finer  than  the 
works. 


X 

SANTA   MARIA   DEL   MAR 


"A  GREAT,  famous,  ricli,  and  well-establislied 
city  " — so  Barcelona  seemed  to  Cervantes  three 
centuries  ago.  He  made  it  the  scene  of  Don 
Quixote's  final  and  most  lamentable  adven- 
tures, and  vividly  described  its  exuberant  life. 
Cervantes  clearly  placed  this  city,  though  he 
had  little  personal  connection  with  it,  above  all 
the  cities  of  Spain,  for  again  in  Las  Dos  Don- 
cellas,  when  the  travellers  approached  Barcelona 
towards  sunset,  "  the  lovely  situation  of  the  city 
filled  them  with  admiration,  and  they  reckoned 
it  the  flower  of  the  beautiful  cities  of  the 
world." 

Barcelona  has  developed  since  then  ;  it  is  not 
only  the  greatest  city  in  Spain,  almost  the 
largest  city  of  the  Mediterranean,  it  is  one 
of  the  commercial  centres  of  Europe,  the 
Spanish  Manchester,  of  about  the  same  size  and 

273  T 


274  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

population,  but  indeed  unlike  the  English  Man- 
chester. Its  modern  eulogist  can  no  longer 
describe  it  altogether  in  the  terms  Cervantes 
used.  Yet  still  to-day  the  stranger  may  feel 
something  of  the  same  enthusiasm  about  Bar- 
celona ;  one  returns  to  this  city  again  and  again, 
and  always  with  new  delight.  I  have  seen  it 
under  all  aspects,  and  even  under  martial  law 
it  has  not  been  other  than  agreeable  to  live  in.^ 
One  may  say,  indeed,  that  of  all  the  great 
commercial  cities  of  Europe  Barcelona  is  that 
in  which  amenity  of  climate  and  the  claims  of 
humane  living  have  been  least  hidden  and 
crushed  by  the  hurry  and  ugliness  of  business. 
One  most  readily  compares  it  with  Marseilles, 
but  with  all  its  human  life  and  colour,  Marseilles 
is  always  restless  and  feverish,  as  Barcelona 
never  is,  while  in  Naples,  the  other  great  city 
of  the  Mediterranean,  this  restless  feverishness 
is  still  more  pronounced,  and  more  disconcerting 
because  more  squalid. 

The    special    characters   of   Barcelona   may, 
however,  best  be  realised  by  comparing  it  with 

^  On  this  occasion,  directly  after  a  series  of  sanguinary  collisions 
in  the  streets,  a  ''state  of  war"  was  officially  declared,  the  militarj' 
authorities  took  over  the  control  of  affairs,  troops  were  poured  in  and 
posted  at  every  "strategic  position,"  the  newspapers  were  placed 
under  military  censure,  and  forbidden  to  publish  any  news  concerning 
the  events  in  progress.  At  last  the  trams  began  to  run  again  down 
the  long  Rambla,  under  the  guard  of  mounted  soldiers  with  drawn 
sabres,  while  crowds  gazed  in  silence,  the  cry  of  the  Catalan  ex- 
tremists, "  Down  with  Spain  !  "  for  the  time  subdued. 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     275 

the  other  great  industrial  seaports  of  Spain, 
Buch  as  Bilbao  and  Malaga.  Bilbao,  which  for 
industrial  energy  and  importance  is  naturally 
coupled  with  Barcelona,  presents  a  complete 
contrast  to  it  although  only  situated  a  few 
hundred  miles  away.  It  is  a  city  of  the 
Basques,  a  people  of  very  different  temperament 
from  the  Catalans,  and  it  is  on  the  damp  and 
stormy  shores  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay ;  those, 
doubtless,  are  main  factors  in  its  special  com- 
plexion. The  Basques  are  honest,  serious,  in- 
dustrious, humane,  home-loving  people,  perhaps 
to  even  a  greater  extent  than  the  Catalans,  but 
they  lack  the  sense  for  the  external  side  of  life, 
and  tenacious  as  they  are  of  their  ancient  rights 
and  privileges,  they  seem  to  possess  no  strong 
impulse  to  assert  themselves  in  the  visible 
splendour  of  urban  life.  The  Basque  is  the 
man  of  the  mountain  village,  and  Bilbao  is 
nothing  more  than  an  overgrown  mountain 
village.  The  broken  and  hilly  site  is  naturally 
picturesque,  and  the  town  seems  to  have 
reverently  adapted  itself  to  the  sinuosities  of 
its  site,  and  to  that  extent  only  is  it  adequate 
and  satisfying.  But  more  than  that  is  needed 
to  make  a  great  city.  We  demand  the  plastic 
force  of  the  collective  community,  creating  for 
itself  a  visibly  beautiful  and  imposing  home. 
The  Walloons  of  Liege — an  industrial  city  of 
somewhat     similar     character,    though    indeed 


276  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

much  larger — are  also  beautifully  situated  amid 
fine  scenery,  but  they  have  not  on  that  account 
neglected  the  active  creation  of  their  city. 
That  we  miss  at  Bilbao ;  there  are  neither 
splendid  signs  of  antiquity  nor  attractive  signs 
of  modernity.  At  Barcelona  a  magnificent  site 
has  been  wisely  and  spaciously  planned  to  the 
best  advantage,  while  the  precious  remains  of 
antiquity  have  been,  so  far  as  possible,  har- 
moniously preserved  without  detriment  to  the 
insistent  demands  of  a  modern  community's  life. 
But  in  Bilbao  all  the  siorns  of  a  ^dgrorous  urban 
community's  collective  social  life, — great  parks 
and  splendid  churches,  markets,  town -halls, 
museums,  theatres,  music-halls,  cafes, — all  the 
things  in  which  Barcelona  reveals  her  abounding 
splendour  and  vitality,  are  either  so  insignificant 
that  they  scarcely  catch  our  attention,  or  they 
are  not  there  at  all.  Let  us  turn  to  Malaga, 
a  Mediterranean  city  and  therefore  perhaps 
more  comparable  to  Barcelona.  Malaga  is  still, 
as  it  has  been  from  the  time  of  the  Phoenicians, 
a  very  important  commercial  and  industrial 
centre ;  it  has  an  almost  supremely  fine  cHmatic 
position,  with  the  hottest  and  perhaps  the  most 
perfect  winter  weather  of  Continental  Europe. 
Its  people  possess,  too.  a  not  uninteresting  city, 
and  they  reveal  a  certain  aspiration  for  urban 
development ;  but  that  executive  ability,  so 
marked  in  the  Catalans,  is  here  lacking.     The 


SANTA   MARIA   DEL  MAR     277 

languor  of  their  climate  seems  always  to  affect 
the  accomplishment  of  tlie  Malaga  people's  great 
designs.  Alike  under  Moorish  rule  and  under 
Christian  rule  few  great  personalities  have  come 
out  of  Malaga,  for  at  Malaga  it  is  so  easy  to 
recline  under  the  blue  sky,  amid  the  almost 
tropical  vegetation,  and  therewith  to  be  content. 
We  must  not  expect  to  find  people  of  the  same 
fibre  as  those  who  made  Barcelona. 

The  Catalans  are  a  sturdy  and  vigorous 
people  who  from  of  old  have  been  planted 
firmly  astride  the  eastern  portion  of  the  Pyrenees, 
for  it  is  still  easy  to  trace  the  Catalan  character- 
istics of  Roussillon.  They  are  not  French,  they 
are  not  completely  Spanish,  though  both  French 
and  Spanish  characteristics  may  be  found  here 
blended,  for  an  indomitable  strencrth  of  fibre  has 
enabled  them  to  preserve  a  high  degree  of  in- 
dependence. They  were  of  old  an  adventurous, 
seafaring  people  who  compiled,  indeed,  the  first 
code  of  maritime  law  in  the  western  world  ;  they 
established  free  municipal  institutions  and  an 
enlightened  political  order,  which  could  accept  no 
external  restraint.^    They  have  always  succeeded 

^  To-day  it  is  the  political  and  administrative  control  of  Madrid 
against  which  the  Catalans  protest.  The  Catalan  question  is, 
especially,  an  economic  question.  The  Catalans  rebel  against  paying 
the  bureaucratic  Castilian  heavily  for  services  which  are  very  badly 
performed,  services  which,  they  are  well  aware,  they  could  perform 
Tery  much  better  for  themselves.  They  have  suffered  seriously  from 
the  necessities  of  a  State  centralised  in  remote  Madrid,  and  they  con- 
sider, moreover,   that   they  are   entitled   to  fiscal  autonomy.     Their 


278  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

in  the  end  in  throwing  back  the  French  from  the 
Pyrenees,  and  they  have  never  bowed  willingly — 
to-day  less  than  ever — to  the  dictates  of  Madrid, 
nor  have  they  ever  hesitated  to  accept  radical 
and  subversive  theories  in  the  sphere  of  thought. 
Superficial  picturesqueness  and  charm  are  not 
primary  qualities  among  the  Catalans.  They 
are  not  unaware  of  those  qualities  ;  they  can 
devote,  indeed,  the  busiest  part  of  their  busiest 
thoroughfare  to  a  flower  market,  and  the  market 
woman  who  off"ers  an  artichoke  for  sale  holds  it 
tenderly  by  the  long  stalk  as  if  she  knew  the 
beautiful  flower  it  really  is ;  but  they  are  always 
prepared  to  sacrifice  picturesqueness  and  charm 
to  practical  usefulness  and  convenience.  This 
temperament  has  slowly  moulded  their  water- 
pot,  which,  instead  of  being,  as  in  neigh- 
bouring Valencia,  a  beautiful  but  inconvenient 
jar  of  more  or  less  classical  shape,  is  here  per- 
fectly well  adapted  to  its  uses,  although  it  has 
thereby  lost  most  of  its  grace.  The  Catalan 
language,  again,  though  closely  related  to  Pro- 
vencal, one  of  the  most  charming  and  musical  of 
tongues,  is  a  characteristic  creation  of  a  rough 
and  vigorous  race,  somewhat  careless  of  formal 

commercial  and  industrial  supremacy  leads  them  to  assign  to  Catalonia 
a  more  than  provincial  rank,  and  they  believe  that  the  restoration  of 
Spain  can  best  be  accomplished  with  a  Catalan  hegemony,  and  increased 
home-rule  in  all  the  regions  of  Spain.  It  is  quite  likely  that  such  a 
reform  of  the  national  constitution  would  lead  to  a  state  of  things 
more  suitable  to  the  genius  of  the  Spanish  character  than  the  present 
highly  centralised  system. 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     279 

beauty,  and  willing  to  contract  its  speech  into  a 
series  of  unpleasantly  sibilant  and  dental  mono- 
syllables, which  might  have  been  invented  by  a 
people  whose  mouths  were  habitually  full.  The 
people  themselves,  indeed,  are  not  beautiful,  men 
or  women,  that  is  in  the  great  towns ;  it  is  often 
quite  otherwise  as  regards  the  women  when  we 
go  to  secluded  inland  spots,  and  even  just  out- 
side Barcelona  they  are  often  charming  and  of  a 
type  of  fair  regular  beauty  which,  even  among 
women  of  the  people,  is  often  quite  sensitive  and 
not  of  the  Andalusian  bronze  or  marble  mould. 
In  the  city,  especially,  the  faces  are  more  mobile, 
the  gestures  are  more  dramatic,  there  is  more 
refinement  of  expression  in  the  whole  body.  It 
is  the  inevitable  result  of  city  life.  They  are 
clearly  a  very  mixed  people,  and  to  their  making 
many  perhaps  incongruous  elements  have  gone  ; 
all  sorts  of  types  are  met,  on  the  whole  more 
often  fair  than  dark,  with  blue  or  grey  eyes  and 
rather  light  hair.  In  the  main  they  are  certainly 
a  physically  robust  race,  both  men  and  women ; 
and  the  women,  even  more  than  elsewhere  in 
Spain,  are  often  large,  with  great  busts  and  hips, 
though  there  are  also  slender  types,  with  lively 
round  faces  and  sensitive  everted  nostrils,  again 
not  beautiful,  but  alert  and  intelligent. 

The  essential  and  pronounced  characteristics 
of  the  Catalans  are  much  less  physical  than 
psychic.      To    a    tenacity    like    that    of    their 


280  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

Aragonese  neighbours  they  unite,  what  is  not 
found  in  the  Aragonese,  a  close  grip  of  the 
material  side  of  life,  an  executive  energy  which 
enables  them  to  organise,  and  bring  to  successful 
issue,  the  practical  schemes,  and  these  are  many, 
to  which  they  set  themselves.  They  are  business- 
like, strictly  honest,  even  in  dealing  with  the  most 
helpless  foreigners  ;  and  that  quality  of  urbanity, 
of  instinctively  humane  friendliness  towards  the 
stranger,  which  had  so  impressed  the  sympathetic 
Cervantes,  remains  still  one  of  their  most 
characteristic  features.  To  the  traveller  who 
approaches  Barcelona,  whether  from  the  Spanish 
side  or  the  French  side,  it  may  seem  sometimes 
that  there  is  a  somewhat  insensitive  coarseness 
of  fibre  in  the  Catalonian.  That  impression 
disappears,  however,  when  we  realise  that  the 
fundamental  Catalonian  characteristic  is  a 
humanity  which  is  not  always  timidly  seeking 
to  guard  itself  from  hostile  approaches.  It  is 
the  temper  of  a  people  singularly  well  fitted  to 
realise  the  claims  of  urban  living  and  to  organise 
its  modern  developments.  To  the  Englishman, 
especially — scarcely  yet  beginning  to  realise  that 
living  is  an  art,  and  accustomed  to  feel  that  he 
is  never  comfortable  except  when  he  is  uncom- 
fortable— Barcelona  cannot  fail  to  be  a  revelation 
of  what  a  great  commercial  city  may  be  when 
humanely  and  harmoniously  organised.  In  a 
beautiful  and  exquisitely  tempered  climate,  that 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     281 

is  seldom  too  hot  and  seldom  too  cold,  a  robustly 
independent  and  clear-eyed  population  has  here 
freely  expanded  itself,  loving  work  and  loving 
play,  and  combining  these  two  fundamental 
human  impulses  more  completely  and  more 
admirably  than  any  other  equally  great  city. 
When  it  has  achieved  the  highest  degree  of 
economic  and  political  freedom  compatible  with 
the  integrity  of  Spain,  of  which  it  is  more  than 
any  other  region  the  executive  brain  and  arm, 
Barcelona  will  worthily  appear  as  in  some 
essentials  a  model  city,  a  place  worthy  of 
municipal  pilgrimage  and  urban  inspiration. 
We  are  accustomed  to  look  upon  Spain  as  a 
country  which  has  fallen  behind  in  the  race  of 
civilisation.  But  civilisation  is  largely  a  matter 
of  beautiful  and  humane  urban  development 
under  industrial  conditions,  and  in  Barcelona 
we  realise  that,  in  many  respects,  this  has  been 
attained  in  a  degree  which  elsewhere  we  are 
still  vainly  toiling  to  achieve.  So  it  is  that  in 
Barcelona  we  do  not,  as  in  so  many  cities  that 
are  both  ancient  and  modern,  shun  the  new  while 
we  seek  out  the  old ;  we  find  the  Rambla,  the 
wharves,  all  the  haunts  of  men  to-day,  not  less 
delightful  than  the  mysterious  gloom  of  the 
cathedral  or  the  venerable  church  of  the  populace, 
Santa  Maria  del  Mar. 


282 


THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 


II 

The  vigour  and  inventiveness  of  the  Catalana 
have  been  displayed  in  the  sciences  and  the  arts 
from  the  earliest  times.  Barcelona  has  always 
been  an  enlightened  and  liberal  seaport.  Arnold 
of  Villanueva  and  other  intellectual  pioneers 
may  be  counted  as  Catalans,  as  may  many 
Spanish  revolutionaries  and  freethinkers  of  later 
times.  The  neighbouring  monastery  of  Mon- 
serrat  was  in  early  ages  a  centre  of  light  where 
all  the  artistic  crafts  were  fostered.  The  Catalans 
have  always  cherished  their  poetic  gifts  and 
publicly  rewarded  their  poets ;  they  are  among 
the  most  musical  people  in  Spain;  in  painting 
they  were  pioneers  of  the  Spanish  school,  and 
still  to-day  produce  the  greatest  number  of 
Spanish  painters. 

But  while  the  Catalans  have  thus  shown 
energy  and  versatile  aptitude  in  so  many 
fields,  we  have  to  admit,  as  we  enumerate 
those  aptitudes,  that  seldom  in  any  of  those 
fields  have  they  achieved  a  supremacy  which 
invites  the  reverent  study  of  the  world  in 
general.  There  remains,  however,  one  field  of 
art  in  which  the  Catalan  genius  has  expressed 
itself  with  a  more  notable  emphasis  and  beauty, 
and  that  is  architecture. 

I  can  never  forget  how,  on  my  first  approach 


SANTA   MARIA  DEL  MAR     283 

to  Spain,  many  years  ago,  through  Koussillon, 
I  stopped  to  rest  for  the  night,  before  crossing 
the  frontier,  at  the  little  city  of  Perpignan,  once 
Spanish,  and  with  an  agreeable  Catalan  flavour 
still  clinging  to  it.  It  was  late  afternoon, 
almost  dusk,  and  when  I  found  myself  before 
the  quiet  and  unostentatious  cathedral,  I 
pushed  open  the  small  door  and  entered.  The 
church  was  very  dark,  it  seemed  the  darkest 
church  I  had  ever  seen,  with  only  one  small 
red  lamp  twinkling  through  the  gloom,  but 
it  was  light  enough  to  realise  the  simple  and 
impressive  plan  of  the  building  :  a  broad 
and  aisleless  hall,  of  solemn  and  mysterious 
simplicity,  with  that  low  -  toned  gravity  and 
sweetness  which  strikes  the  perfect  note  of 
devotion  in  a  church  and  veils  its  imperfection, 
if  such  there  be,  in  tender  mist.  I  was  in  a 
church  of  the  Catalan  type,  although  as  yet 
I  knew  not  so  much  as  that  there  was  a  Catalan 
type  of  church.  It  had  all  the  charm  of  a  fresh 
and  incalculable  revelation. 

Taking  a  broad  survey  of  Spain  as  a  whole, 
it  seems  to  me,  after  traversing  the  country 
in  most  directions,  that  the  main  focus  of  vital 
feeling  for  architecture  (excluding  Moorish 
architecture)  is  in  Catalonia  and  Valencia  (with 
Majorca),  while  there  is  another  minor  focus 
in  the  portions  of  Old  Castile  and  Leon 
immediately  to  the  north  of  the    Guadarrama 


284  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Mountains ;  these  two  foci,  although  unlike  in 
character,  being  approximately  connected  by 
the  valley  of  the  Ebro,  to  Tudela  and  towards 
Pamplona,  which  has  always  been  so  important 
a  channel  of  communication,  and  then  falhng 
back  along  the  Duero  to  Old  Castile.  Nearly 
all  the  fundamental  ideas  of  Spanish  architec- 
ture have  been  imported  from  without,  usually 
from  France,  but  in  Catalonia  and  Valencia 
they  have  been  developed  brilliantly,  vigorously, 
sometimes  luxuriantly,  with  a  fine  and  often 
original  sense  of  architectural  beauty,  in 
ecclesiastical,  municipal,  and  domestic  buildings, 
while  in  Castile  an  impressive  and  yet  delicate 
form  of  church  has  been  developed,  a  kind  of 
Renaissance  Gothic,  finding  its  best  expression 
perhaps  in  Segovia  Cathedral,  which  is  unique, 
and  corresponds  to  that  subtlety  and  refinement 
which  seems  to  me  to  mark  the  people  them- 
selves and  their  spiritual  productions  generally. 
The  reality  of  the  architectural  impulse  in 
these  two  centres  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
it  is  illustrated  not  only  in  the  special  develop- 
ments of  Gothic  here  found,  but  also  in  the 
churches  of  the  earlier  Romanesque  period. 
Outside  these  centres  there  are  many  great 
and  splendid  buildings,  often  expressing  to 
the  utmost  the  special  temper  of  the  Spanish 
people,  but  at  the  best  they  are  not  archi- 
tecturally Spanish,  and  they  have  little  or  no 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     285 

original  beauty  which  is  Spanish.  Leon  is 
purely  French,  its  exquisite  beauty,  its  extreme 
daring,  still  further  heightened  by  the  con- 
tinuous reverence  which,  unlike  its  French 
sisters,  it  has  always  received.  Santiago  de 
Compostela,  in  a  very  different  style,  is  the 
fellow  of  Saint  Sernin  at  Toulouse,  and  doubt- 
less designed  by  the  same  Aquitanian  architect ; 
Toledo  and  Burgos,  superbly  Spanish  as  they 
have  become  in  their  final  effects,  are  funda- 
mentally French;  Seville  Cathedral,  with  all 
the  magnificence  of  its  aim  and  its  effect, 
lacks  purely  architectural  beauty,  and  was 
planned  and  mainly  built,  one  can  well  believe, 
by  German  Gothic  architects. 

The  earliest  fine  church  of  the  transition 
from  Romanesque  of  the  type  of  St.  Sernin 
to  Gothic  in  Eastern  Spain  is  the  colegiata 
(formerly  the  cathedral)  of  Tudela,  on  the  Ebro. 
It  was  begun  in  1135,  and  represents  the 
earliest  Pointed  style,  developing  on  a  still 
strongly  marked  Romanesque  basis.  The  plain, 
whitewashed  cloisters,  surrounding  the  closed 
court  full  of  dense,  luxuriant  vegetation,  are 
Romanesque,  so  are  the  interesting  portals  and 
the  varied  and  elaborate  capitals.  But  from 
this  basis  the  church  springs  up  in  the  very 
early  French  Gothic  manner,  symmetrical  and 
simple  in  its  fundamental  construction,  not 
spacious,  not  imposing,  and  with  no  ambulatory 


286  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

in  the  choir,  the  eastern  chapels  being  in  a  line 
with  the  capilla  mayor.  Outside,  the  effect  is 
unsatisfactory,  apart  from  the  portals,  and  in 
any  case  difficult  to  view ;  while  inside,  the 
virtue  of  primitively  fine  construction,  scarcely 
in  itself  sufficient  to  ensure  beauty,  has  been 
overlaid  by  ugly  painting,  and  disturbed  by 
windows  full  of  square  coloured  panes.  We 
are  in  the  presence  of  a  very  French  church 
with  an  initial  disharmony  of  style,  which, 
notwithstanding  its  constructional  virtues  and 
its  undoubted  interest,  has  not  attained  to  any 
satisfying  beauty  and  solemnity.^ 

Passing  by  Lerida  Cathedral,  the  next  stage 
in  the  evolution,  which  I  have  never  seen,  we 
come  to  the   great  and   fascinating   church   of 

1  I  naturally  give  my  owti  impression,  which  is  not  that  of  an 
architect.  Street  regarded  this  cathedral  as  one  of  the  best  churches 
in  Europe.  It  has  been  said  that  Street  had  "a  sort  of  delight  in 
architectural  uncomfortableness. "  In  his  dislike  of  false  ornament 
and  his  enthusiasm,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  for  the  bald  virtues 
of  the  earliest  Pointed  style,  he  represented  a  wholesome  reaction, 
though  many  architects,  it  is  probable,  would  now  bring  a  more 
qualified  admiration  into  this  field.  It  may  not,  I  trust,  be  im- 
pertinent to  express  my  admiration  of  Street's  Gothic  Architecture  in 
Spain,  written  more  than  forty  years  ago,  when  means  of  communi- 
cation were  more  difficult  than  at  present,  with  few  guide-books  or 
manuals  at  hand  (so  that  he  was  sometimes  quite  unprepared  for  what 
he  was  to  find).  During  the  hurried  vacations  of  a  busy  professional 
life  Street  seems  to  have  seen  nearly  every  important  Gothic  church 
in  Spain,  accurately  and  precisely,  with  the  illuminating  vision  of  one 
familiar  with  the  architecture  of  Europe,  while  he  sketches  what  he 
has  seen  with  the  skill  and  rapidity  to  which  his  son  has  borne 
witness.  The  volume  in  which  his  experiences  are  recorded  has  some- 
thing of  the  fresh  charm  and  excitement  of  a  book  of  pioneering 
adventures.     It  surely  deserves  to  be  republished. 


SANTA  MARIA   DEL  MAR     287 

Tarragona,  which  may  be  said  to  represent  the 
finest    development    of   the    transitional    stage 
before  we  reach  pure  and  unmixed  Gothic,  and 
before  the  really  specific  tendencies  of  Catalan 
architecture    have   begun   to    emerge.       In   the 
early   part   of    the   twelfth   century,    Ordericus 
Vitalis  says  the  cathedral  church  of  Tarragona 
was   overgrown    with  oaks    and   beeches  which 
had   indeed   overspread   the  whole   city   within 
the   walls,    the    Saracens   having   butchered   or 
driven  away  the  inhabitants.      Here  the   ener- 
getic  Catalans  set  to  work,  and  on  the  top  of 
the    hill,  facing   the   steep  street,   they  rebuilt 
the  cathedral,  which,  with  its  mighty  mass  of 
masonry,    yet    remains   the   central    and   most 
interesting  object  in   this  ancient  city.      With 
Romanesque    details,    and    to    some    extent    a 
Romanesque    atmosphere,    and  with    something 
of  a  luxuriance  which  belongs  to  a  much  later 
date,  it  is  in    the   main    the  expression   of  an 
early  Pointed  style  which  has  gained  complete 
mastery  of  its  effects  and  full  self-consciousness. 
While  interesting  from  outside,  it  is  too  closed 
in  to  be  effective  as  a  whole ;  it  is  from  within, 
as  is  the  case  with  so  many  Catalan  churches, 
that  its  charm  is  alone  fully  revealed.      Here 
we  find,   for   the   first  time,   the   characteristic 
gloom  of  Catalan  churches,  so  that  it  is  many 
minutes  before  the  eye  is  in   any  degree  able 
to   see   clearly.      It   is  here  that   we  begin  to 


288  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

see  the  working  of  the  vigorous  and  ingenious 
Catalan  mind  as  applied  to  architecture.  It 
was  the  ideal  of  the  French  Gothic  artists  to 
make  a  beautiful  glass  house  scientifically 
supported  by  buttresses.  We  see  that,  for 
instance,  at  Leon,  the  most  developed  embodi- 
ment of  the  French  Gothic  idea  that  can  well 
be  conceived,  the  realisation  of  that  ideal  which 
the  French  Gothic  spirit  attempted  at  Beauvais 
and  failed  to  achieve ;  ^  even  the  triforium, 
throughout  nave  and  transept  and  choir,  is  all 
glass,  and  all  stained  glass ;  we  are  in  a  huge 
and  lovely  house  of  three  storeys  of  richly 
painted  windows ;  and,  fortunately,  in  the 
northern  climate  of  Leon  it  has  been  possible 
to  leave  undisturbed  that  original  arrangement, 
though  a  little  farther  south,  in  Avila  and 
many  other  places,  it  has  been  found  necessary 
to  fill  in  the  superfluous  windows  of  the  French 
Gothic  builders,  and  to  substitute  blank  and 
awkward  spaces  of  wall.  But  here  at  Tarra- 
gona, even  at  this  early  period,  the  Catalans 
had  clearly  grasped  the  problem  of  light  in  a 
glaring  southern  atmosphere,  and  had  learnt 
how  to  deal  with  it.  The  windows  are  often 
very  small  and  always  filled  with  richly  stained 
glass ;  when  large,  as  in  the  rose  windows,  the 
tracery  is  very  heavy,  and  the  glass  mostly  in 

^  Constructionally  Leon  Cathedral  was  made  possible  by  the  very 
light  stone  used  in  building. 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     289 

small  patches  of  deep  colour.  Some  of  the  round 
window-openings,  also,  while  rather  larger  both 
at  the  exterior  and  the  interior  surfaces  of  the 
massively  thick  walls,  diminish  by  concentric 
rings  of  ornamental  moulding,  the  glass  being 
inserted  at  the  most  constricted  point  in  the 
centre  of  the  wall.^ 

While  Tarragona  is  a  large  church  largely 
conceived  and  even  characteristically  Catalan, 
with  a  beautiful  transeptal  dome  awkwardly 
placed  on  its  arches,  the  specific  constructional 
ideas  of  the  Catalan  genius  have  scarcely  yet 
begun  to  appear  ;  it  is  mainly  the  details  which 
impress  us  here  by  their  novelty,  ingenuity,  and 
luxuriance,  and  more  especially  the  sculpture. 
From  its  earliest  to  its  latest  period,  Tarragona 
Cathedral,  inside  and  outside,  and  especially  in 
the  wonderful  cloisters, — by  far  the  most  inte- 
resting cloisters  in  existence  belonging  to  so 
early  a  date, — is  a  revel  of  Catalan  sculpture, 
Romanesque  and  Gothic,  sculpture  that  is 
solemn  or  beautiful  or  fanciful  or  trivial, 
always    vigorous    and    interesting,    always    the 

^  Street,  referring  to  the  remarkably  wide  splay  externally  from 
the  face  of  the  wall  to  the  glass,  compares  it  to  a  similar  feature  of 
early  work  in  England  due  to  the  rarity  of  the  use  of  glass.  It  is 
doubtful  if  there  is  any  real  analogy  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  at  Tarragona 
we  are  concerned  with  deliberate  and  artistic  efforts,  sometimes  per- 
haps of  an  experimental  nature,  to  regulate  and  modify  light  effects, 
the  Catalan  arcliitects  also  at  the  same  time  being  affected  by  the 
general  Spanish  tendency,  quite  unlike  that  of  French  architects,  to 
sacrifice  exterior  effects  to  interior  effects. 


290  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

native  outcome  of  the  boldly  fertile  and  realistic 
Catalan    mind.       There    has    always    been    an 
aptitude    for    sculpture    here;    in    the    Museo 
Arqueologico     near     the    cathedral    there     are 
delightful   fragments    of    sculpture    of    Roman 
and  later  date,  while  some  of  the  latest  pieces 
in  the  Roman  manner,  though  florid,  are  in  a 
bold  and  happily  decorative  style.     Here,  in  the 
cathedral,    the     sculptor's    work,    though    not 
always  happy,  always  shows   a  fine  sculptural 
feeling ;    sometimes   it   is   exquisite,    sometimes 
merely  trivial,  as  in  the  marble  butterflies  and 
spiders  of  the  retablo ;  sometimes  it  is  broadly 
humorous,  as  in  the  scene,  in  the  cloisters,  where 
we  see  a  solemn  procession  of  rats  joyfully  bear- 
ing on  a  bier  a  demurely  supine  cat,  who,  a  little 
farther  on,  is  again  seen   vigorously  alive  and 
seizing  one  of  her  unfortunate  bearers  while  the 
rest    are  put  to  flight — the  most  insignificant 
sculpture  in  the  cathedral,  but  perhaps  the  most 
interesting,   the    sacristan    observes    smilingly. 
But   everywhere    there    are    sculptured    figure 
scenes,    serious    or    comic,    realistic    fruit    and 
foliage  forms,  nearly  always  as  fresh  and  perfect 
as  though  executed  yesterday,  and  when  at  last 
one  is  compelled  to  leave,  and  the  most  charming 
and  intelligent  of  young  sacristans  bows  deeply 
his  adios  at  the  western  door,  it  is  with  the  feeling 
that  nowhere  has  the  Catalan  soul  revealed  itself 
so  variously  and  so  riotously  as  at  Tarragona. 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     291 

When  we  turn  to  Barcelona  Cathedral,  which 
was  begun  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth,  and 
mainly  built  during  the  early  years  of  the 
following  century,  we  reach  at  last  the  fully 
developed  Catalan  church  of  the  so-called  tran- 
sitional period.  I  say  "  so-called,"  because  we 
seem  to  realise  at  Barcelona,  what  we  may 
already  vaguely  feel  at  Tarragona,  that,  so  far  as 
the  Catalans  were  concerned,  the  retention  of 
Romanesque  elements  in  conjunction  with 
Gothic  is  not  the  helpless  result  of  a  changing 
fashion,  but  a  deliberately  adopted  method, 
carefully  calculated  for  the  attainment  of  definite 
architectural  and  artistic  effects.  And  Barcelona 
is  not,  like  Tarragona,  a  church  mainly  interest- 
ing for  brilliant  experiments  and  predominantly 
the  triumphant  achievement  of  the  sculptor.  It 
has  a  firmly  designed  beauty,  as  strong  and 
attractive  a  personality  of  its  own  as  Notre 
Dame  of  Paris.  A  church  of  such  decided 
individuality  suggests  the  moulding  force  of 
a  great  master-mind,  and  it  seems  probable 
that  such  a  creative  artist  is  to  be  found  in 
Jaime  Fabre,  a  very  famous  Mallorcan  architect 
and  builder  of  that  time,  to  whom  Barcelona 
Cathedral  was  entrusted.  The  genius  of  Fabre, 
we  may  judge,  moved  strictly  within  the  Catalan 
limits.  He  imported  no  foreign  spirit  or  method, 
but  he  worked  out  the  specifically  Catalan  con- 
ception of  a  church  with   greater  insight   and 


292  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

executive  ability  than  had  ever  been  displayed 
before,  and  he  began  to  move  towards  those 
ideals  which  w^ere  afterwards  triumphantly 
attained  in  the  final  form  reached  by  the 
Catalan  church. 

Externally  Barcelona  Cathedral  is  not  especi- 
ally   impressive,     much     less     so     even     than 
Tarragona,  and  it  is  so  hemmed  in  by  build- 
ings that  only   here  and  there  are  we  able  to 
approach  it.    Like  Seville  it  is  not  even  finished. 
In  this  subordination  of  exterior  efi'ects  Barce- 
lona   resembles   so   many    of    even    the    finest 
Spanish  cathedrals,  and  differs  from  the  Gothic 
churches    of    Northern    France.       The    French 
architects,  like  the  old  Greek  architects,  seem  to 
have  had  in  their  heads  the  idea  that  a  church 
is  like  a  precious  casket  which  must,  above  all, 
be  beautiful,  as  a  casket  must  be  beautiful,  to 
honour  the  treasure  it  contains  within.       The 
Spaniards,  less   artists,   more  personal  in  their 
point  of  view,  with  minds  mainly  set  on  the 
practical  object  for  which  a  church  is  designed, 
were   primarily  concerned  with  the  worshipper 
inside,   and  comparatively  indifi'erent  to    every 
consideration  which  had  no  bearing  on  him.     At 
Amiens,  although  it  is  not  externally  the  most 
perfectly  planned  of  French  Gothic  churches,  yet 
perhaps  the  most  delightful  part  of  one's  visit  is 
the  walk  on  the  roofs.     Only  then  can  we  fully 
realise  the  exquisite  beauty  and   finish  of  the 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     293 

building ;  and  by  comparison  the  interior, 
beautifully  planned  as  it  is,  a  little  chills  us 
by  its  roughness  and  bareness.  But  in  ap- 
proaching a  Spanish  church  there  is  seldom 
much  temptation,  except  at  the  portals,  to 
linger  outside. 

When  we  enter  it  by  the  west  door  Barcelona 
Cathedral  is  found  to  be  darker  even  than  Tar- 
ragona ;  it  is  perhaps  the  darkest  of  all  great 
churches.  We  realise  here,  indeed,  how  much 
the  northern  Gothic  artists  sacrificed  when,  in 
making  their  churches,  they  so  much  overpassed 
the  necessary  threshold  of  light  and  flooded  their 
interiors  with  it  from  every  side.  Here  the 
lighting  is  firmly  poised  on  the  necessary 
threshold  of  illumination.  Before  we  have  been 
here  long  we  are  able  to  see  that  this  has  been 
deliberately  planned  and  finely  achieved,  and  in 
such  a  manner,  moreover,  that  what  is  really 
by  no  means  a  large,  though  a  superbly  planned 
church,  is  enabled  to  add  to  its  fine  proportions 
all  the  mysterious  charm,  the  broken  and  varied 
lights,  of  unmeasured  vastness. 

The  spiritual  gaiety,  the  bold  aspiration,  the 
logic  and  symmetry  of  French  Gothic,  the  ex- 
pression of  the  people  who  created  it,  always 
seem  to  disappear  even  in  the  most  genuinely 
French  churches  of  Spain,  at  Burgos  or  Toledo, 
and  are  but  barely  retained  at  Leon.  At  Bar- 
celona there  is  no  attempt  to  retain  them.     The 


294  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

designer  lias  deliberately  chosen  to  impress  the 
massive    Romanesque   spirit  on   his   work,    the 
spirit  that  more  truly  expresses  the  grave  and 
sombre   spirit   of  Spain,  and   has    used  Gothic 
methods  of  construction,  in  so  far  as  he  has  used 
them,  not  to  disturb  that  spirit,  but  rather,  by 
the  added  power  it  gives  the  builder,  to  heighten 
that    effect,     and    to    impart    mystery    to    its 
sombre  and  massive  soHdity.     Though  there  is 
never  extravagance,  there  is  a  boldness  which 
springs  out  of  underlying  sobriety  ;  there  is  con- 
struction   that    is    always    simple,    broad,    and 
harmonious.     The  upper  arches  of  the  nave  are 
round ;  the  arches  beneath  the  vaulting  beyond 
the   aisles   are    pointed,    the   windows    slightly 
pointed,  and  the  columns  are    clustered.     The 
church  is  very  wide  between  its  main  piers, — a 
characteristic   which   was   later   to    become    so 
prominent  in  Catalan  churches, — and  the  side 
chapels    are   situated,  in   the    Catalan   manner, 
between  the  buttresses,  which   are  within  the 
church.     There  is  scarcely   any  transept.     The 
triforium  is  small ;  the  clerestory  windows  of  the 
nave  are  small  and  round,  and  such  windows  are 
continued  round  the  capilla  mayor.     There  is 
an  ambulatory,  marking  a  notable  advance  on 
Tarragona,  where  it  is  impossible  to  walk  round 
the    capilla    mayor,  and   in    this   eastern    end 
of  the   church   there    are   very   large    windows 
above  and  small  windows  below.     In  front   of 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     295 

the  capilla  mayor  or  high  altar — another  very 
solemn  and  impressive  feature  of  this  church — 
there  is  a  broad  flight  of  steps  down  to  the  iron 
screen  which  is  the  entrance  to  the  crypt,  a 
feature  specially  emphasised  in  this  church, 
because  here  is  the  shrine  which  contains  the 
remains  of  Santa  Eulalia,  the  patron  saint  of 
the  city. 

Such,  baldly  stated,  are  the  main  characters 
of  this  noble  church,  but  its  final  charm  is  that 
of  light  and  shade  and  colour.  The  nave  in  its 
lower  part  is  dark,  for  its  windows  are  narrow 
and  obscured.  Above,  the  clerestory  windows, 
though  small  and  round,  admit  more  light, 
while,  beyond,  the  apse,  which  is  full  of  large 
windows  above  and  small  windows  below,  lets  in 
what  is,  comparatively,  a  blaze  of  light.  That 
admirable  adjustment  of  light  is  the  normal  con- 
dition in  this  church,  but  the  efi'ects  vary 
delightfully  with  the  position  of  the  sun. 
Towards  evening,  for  instance,  when  the  sun- 
light enters  directly  through  the  west  windows, 
the  nave  is  somewhat  lighter  than  the  capilla 
mayor,  and  the  brilliant  colour  patterns  of  the 
windows  are  thrown  on  walls  and  piers  and 
vaults.  Many  of  the  windows  are  old  and  very 
beautiful,  and  even  those  that  are  modern  are 
not  ofi"ensive,  as  they  sometimes  are  in  Spain  as 
well  as  elsewhere.  One  realises  here  not  merely 
the  immense  effectiveness  of  windows  as  colour 


296  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

patterns,  and  tlie  fascination  which  guided 
the  Gothic  builders  of  Northern  France,  but  the 
extreme  care  required  by  windows  apt  to  become 
so  emphatic  and  definite.  In  this  dark  church 
the  windows  stand  out  with  a  tremendously  bril- 
liant emphasis  in  the  surrounding  gloom,  because 
they  themselves  yield  the  only  light  by  which 
they  are  illuminated,  and  windows  not  finely 
fitted  to  play  so  exacting  a  part  would  ruin  the 
eflfect.  Here  they  are  right,  and  impart  its  final 
charm  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  perfectly 
planned  of  Christian  churches. 


ni 

To  study  the  Catalan  church  in  its  final  and 
completed  development  we  cannot  do  better  than 
go  to  the  ancient  city  of  Gerona.  It  is  a  city 
that  on  all  accounts  is  well  worth  a  visit,  finely 
and  picturesquely  situated  among  the  hills,  itself 
irregularly  perched  on  their  slopes.  The  note 
of  Gerona  is  a  solid  though  dilapidated 
sumptuosity.  Its  citizens  of  the  old  time  seem 
to  have  eagerly  taken  advantage  of  their  city's 
peculiar  site  to  emphasise  the  grandiose  eff'ects 
they  loved.  Very  characteristic  seems  the  fine 
and  broad  flight  of  one  hundred  steps,  in  several 
stages  with  their  balustrades,  leading  up  to  the 
north  door  of  the  cathedral.  At  San  FeJiu, 
again,  while  one  door  of  the  church  is  level  with 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL   MAR     297 

the  street,  another  opens  on  to  a  long  flight  of 
steps  leading  down  to  another  street.  It  is  this 
love  of  the  people  of  Gerona  for  great  and 
excessive  efi'ects  which  has  given  their  cathedral 
a  special  place  of  its  own  in  the  history  of 
architecture. 

The  story  of  the  construction  of  Gerona 
Cathedral  is  known  to  an  extent  quite  unusual 
with  ancient  buildings,  and  it  is  worth  while  to 
follow  it.  The  apse  was  built  first,  early  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  by  architects  from  Narbonne, 
who  followed  the  model  of  Barcelona  Cathedral. 
No  doubt  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  the  body 
of  the  church  would  also  be  built  after  much  the 
same  admirable  pattern.  But  by  the  beginning 
of  the  fifteenth  century  the  church  was  still 
uncompleted,  and  by  that  time  a  new  and  daring 
idea  had  occurred  to  Guillelmo  Boffiy,  the 
architect  who  had  been  selected  by  the  chapter. 
Why  not  adapt  to  this  beautiful  apse  which 
already  existed  a  church  simply  in  one  vastly 
broad,  unbroken  nave,  supported  by  the  inner 
buttresses  which  were  already  an  accepted 
principle  of  Catalan  construction  ?  This  concep- 
tion had  already  been  realised  on  a  smaller  scale 
in  the  closely  allied  French  architectural  centre 
of  Aquitaine,  for  Albi  Cathedral,  begun  in  1282, 
though  not  finished  until  1476,  is  an  unbroken 
vaulted  hall,  fifty-five  feet  wide,  with  buttresses 
inside, — a  Gothic  church,  as  Fergusson  remarks, 


298  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

on  principles  almost  diametrically  opposed  to 
those  regarded  as  essential  to  the  style.  This 
movement  evidently,  indeed,  began  in  Aquitaine, 
but  Catalonia  was  so  closely  related  to  that 
centre,  that  we  can  scarcely  say  with  Fergusson 
that  it  "  borrowed  "  architectural  motives  which 
developed  so  naturally  and  gradually  in  its  own 
architecture.  The  chapter  of  Gerona  Cathedral 
evidently  hesitated ;  but  they  were  not  prepared 
to  condemn  the  proposal,  startling  as  it  was, — 
were  indeed,  perhaps,  inclined  to  favour  it  on  the 
important  ground  that  it  would  be  less  expensive. 
They  wisely  decided  to  take  the  advice  of  all 
the  leading  architects  of  Catalonia  and  the 
neighbouring  French  region,  and  submit  to  them 
certain  questions.  As  might  be  expected,  the 
architects  expressed  quite  opposite  opinions ;  the 
majority  were  in  favour  of  the  safe,  old-fashioned 
plan  of  a  nave  with  aisles,  as  the  original  builder  of 
the  cathedral  had  designed  it.  But  a  considerable 
minority,  especially  the  architects  from  Perpignan 
and  Narbonne,  gave  a  support  to  Boffiy  which 
was  founded  on  their  own  experience,  and 
emphatically  declared  that  a  single  nave  without 
aisles  would  be  a  grander,  more  beautiful,  better 
proportioned,  and  less  costly  work.  The  chapter 
chose  the  latter  opinion,  though  it  was  that  of 
the  minority,  and  thus  endowed  their  city  with 
"the  widest  Pointed  vault  in  Christendom," 
though  it  still  took  two  centuries  more  to  com- 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     299 

plete.  The  exact  width  is  seventy -three  feet, 
nearly  double  that  usual  in  French  and  English 
cathedrals. 

Gerona  Cathedral  was  a  splendid  and 
triumphant  experiment  which  remains  unique. 
The  change  of  plan,  the  length  of  time  in  build- 
ing, and  much  that  was  tentative  or  unhappily 
planned  in  important  details  (such  as  the 
extremely  large  clerestory  windows,  now  all 
but  two  filled  in  with  stone  to  attain  the 
requisite  gloom),  prevent  it  from  taking  rank  as 
a  perfect  church.  It  fails  to  bear  the  impress  of 
a  single  bold  yet  deliberate  and  far-seeing  master- 
mind, such  as  we  seem  to  recognise  in  Barcelona 
Cathedral.     Yet  it  remains  highly  impressive. 

Equally  impressive,  however,  is  the  large  and 
somewhat  similar  cathedral  of  Palma,  though  it 
has  unobtrusive  aisles  marked  by  simple  hexa- 
gonal piers.  It  is,  indeed,  even  more  obviously 
impressive  than  Gerona,  for  here  there  is  now 
no  huo;e  choir  in  the  midst  of  the  church  to 
block  the  view  and  disguise  the  impression  of 
splendid  breadth  and  spaciousness  which  the 
Catalans  have  so  finely  succeeded  in  imparting  to 
their  churches.  In  this  stately  and  picturesque 
cathedral,  however  disfigured  it  is  by  minor 
blemishes,  and  perhaps  by  the  ardour  of  the 
energetic  Mallorcans  in  restoration,  we  realise 
at  last  the  ideal  which  the  Catalans  had  been 
striving  towards  for  centuries  in  a  vast  simple 


300  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

and  noble  edifice  enclosing  a  great  open  space  per- 
fectly adapted  for  worship  and  for  preaching,  for 
here,  however  enormous  the  assembled  multitude, 
all  could  see  and  all  could  hear.  There  is  no 
internal  indication  of  transepts,  although 
externally  on  the  north  side  there  is  a  square 
transeptal  tower  in  the  manner  of  Exeter  ;  the 
church  is  lighter  than  is  usual  in  these  Catalan 
edifices,  though  all  the  great  windows  have  been 
blocked  up,  and  small  round  or  square  openings 
made  in  them  filled  with  plain  glass.  There  is 
no  true  apse,  but  three  eastern  chapels,  the 
central  one  (the  capilla  real) — the  oldest  part 
of  the  church — having  a  brightly  lighted  little 
apse,  high  up,  which  is  charmingly  efiective. 

If,  finally,  we  desire  to  see  the  Catalan 
church  in  the  last  and  most  accomplished  stage, 
though  not  in  its  largest  or  stateliest  form,  we 
may  go  back  to  Barcelona,  to  fifteenth  century 
Santa  Maria  del  Pino.  This  is  the  perfected 
type  of  the  broad  and  aisleless  Catalan  church. 
There  is  a  fine  medium  light,  not  bright,  coming 
from  long  windows  of  clerestory  type,  many  of 
them  very  beautiful,  while  there  is  also  a 
beautiful  rose  window  at  the  west  over  a  stone 
gallery.  There  is  an  eastern  apse.  There  are  no 
columns,  but  the  internal  buttresses  make  spaces 
which,  as  usual,  constitute  chapels.  No  choir 
blocks  the  view  ;  the  altar  is  raised  and  fully 
visible.      All  the  interior  is  beautifully  simple 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     301 

and  definite ;  the  arches  are  high,  and  rather 
narrow,  almost  Early  English ;  there  is  little  or 
no  decorative  detail,  beyond  large  but  not 
obtrusive  bosses  on  the  vaulting. 

As  we  stand  in  the  great  cathedral  of  Gerona, 
or  in  this  smaller  but  more  completely  realised 
church  of  Santa  Maria  del  Pino,  we  understand 
the  impulse  which  has  moved  the  Catalans 
through  three  centuries  in  this  long  architectural 
evolution.  They  have  ever  stood  between  the 
two  great  sources  of  architectural  inspiration: 
Rome  and  the  Gothic  of  Northern  France. 
With  instincts  that  allied  them  to  both  these 
centres,  yet  nearly  overwhelmed  by  the  Gothic 
current  to  which  they  were  so  exposed,  the 
Catalans  slowly  asserted  within  the  Gothic  field 
their  equally  imperative  southern  instincts. 
They  craved  a  firm  strength  and  simplicity, 
largeness  and  energy,  with  a  fine  economy  in 
the  adaptation  of  means  to  practical  ends. 
Possessing  great  boldness  in  construction,  to- 
gether with  a  sound  underlying  sobriety,  through 
which  they  were  saved  from  all  extravagant 
incoherence,  they  succeeded  in  moulding  out  of 
unlike  elements  a  finely  and  deliberately  blended 
style  which  expresses  their  own  instincts  and 
temperament.  The  old  Roman  basilica  had 
remained  as  a  half-divined  ideal  for  ever  within 
them  ;  slowly  they  carved  their  way  towards  it. 
On  the  border-land  between  Roman  architecture 


302  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

and  Gothic  architecture  they  achieved  the  satis- 
faction of  their  complex  frontier  impulses  in  the 
creation  of  what  we  may,  I  think,  term  a  Gothic 
basilica,  a  large,  aisleless,  internally  buttressed 
hall  which  is  one  of  the  very  fittest  and  finest 
types  of  the  Christian  Church. 

IV 

Santa  Maria  del  Mar  has  no  place  in  a  sketch 
of  the  evolution  of  the  Catalan  church,  because 
it  marks  no  phase  in  the  growth,  and  presents 
no  single  character  of  the  type  in  peculiar  per- 
fection. Though  large  it  is  not  the  largest  of 
Catalan  churches,  nor  the  boldest,  nor  the  most 
exquisite.  Yet  it  may  well  seem  the  most 
characteristic,  the  most  representative  of  its 
style  at  the  point  of  greatest  architectural 
energy,  the  richest  in  all  the  combined  elements 
that  go  to  make  up  that  style.  It  is,  moreover, 
of  all  these  churches  that  which  most  livingly 
preserves  its  original  character  as  a  great  focus 
of  popular  worship.  It  stands  far  from  the 
modern  centre  of  commercial  Barcelona,  but,  as 
of  old,  in  the  midst  of  the  life  of  the  people,  near 
the  sea,  near  the  great  popular  Plaza,  close  to  the 
outdoor  market  of  the  people.  Here  it  arises 
serenely,  with  the  restrained  beauty  of  its  western 
portal  and  the  fine  austerity  of  its  long  walls, 
from  amid  the  little  booths  and  sheds  that  nestle 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     303 

around  its  base,  still  the  church  of  the  sailors  and 
of  the  market  people,  with  an  endless  stream  of 
the  poor  passing  in  and  out  of  its  doors. 

Santa  Maria  del  Mar  seems  to  have  been 
built  from  the  first  to  be,  what  it  still  remains, 
the  great  parish  church  of  a  busy  seaport.  For 
the  State  and  its  wealthier  citizens  there  was  the 
solemn  and  splendid  cathedral  in  the  heart  of 
the  city ;  for  the  seafarers,  for  the  toilers  on  the 
wharves,  for  the  market  women  who  ministered 
to  them,  here  in  their  midst  was  Our  Lady  of 
the  Sea.  The  two  churches,  with  their  widely 
differing  purpose  and  marked  difference  of  detail 
in  structure,  were  both  built  mainly  at  the  same 
time,  in  the  early  years  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
though  the  cathedral  was  begun  first,  and  the 
architect  of  both,  in  Street's  opinion,  was 
probably  the  great  Mallorcan,  Jaime  Fabre. 

Externally  Santa  Maria  del  Mar  possesses  in 
a  high  degree  that  noble  simplicity  which  re- 
presents the  ultimate  ideal  of  the  Catalan  in 
architecture,  though  it  contrasts  with  the  riotous 
extravagance  in  sculptural  detail  which,  in  the 
cloisters  of  Tarragona  and  Gerona,  and  the 
portals  of  many  churches,  the  Catalan  genius  also 
delighted  in.  In  its  external  simplicity  and 
unity  of  plan,  in  its  fine  economy  of  decora- 
tion, Santa  Maria  del  ]\lar  has  a  rare,  even  a  dis- 
tinctive beauty  of  its  own. 

In   internal   structure   the   church    strongly 


304  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

recalls  Palma  Cathedral.  It  has  not  its  vast- 
ness,  and  the  lighting  is  of  lower  intensity,  but 
the  principle  is  the  same,  and  there  are  two  aisles, 
with  piers  which  are  of  the  same  simple  hexa- 
gonal type.  If  Palma  Cathedral  was  designed 
by  Fabre — who  seems  to  have  possessed  a  full 
measure  of  that  prodigious  energy  which  the 
great  Spaniards  have  often  displayed — one  can 
well  believe  that  he  was  also  the  architect  of 
Santa  Maria  del  Mar.  Perhaps  the  supremely 
beautiful  feature  of  this  church — here  unlike 
Palma,  but  recalling  Barcelona  Cathedral — lies 
in  the  windows.  The  light  is  never  bright,  yet 
the  church  is  full  of  windows,  often  in  three  tiers, 
for  the  most  part  heavily  traceried,  of  the  richly 
coloured  and  thick  glass  that  never  admits  an 
excess  of  light,  always  remaining  through  every 
change  of  the  sun  brilliant  and  jewelled  in  the 
dark  church.  One  never  seems  to  have  seen 
church  windows  before  coming  to  Spain. 

But  it  is  as  a  centre  of  worship  that  Santa 
Maria  del  Mar  holds  its  chief  charm.  The  fine 
skill  of  the  architect,  the  Spanish  genius  for 
ritual,  the  familiar  piety  of  the  men  and  women 
and  children  of  the  people  who  look  upon  this 
house  as  their  own,  combine  to  make  Santa 
Maria  del  Mar  a  place  where  one  lingers,  and 
still  desires  to  linger.  Elsewhere  the  Catalan 
spirit  may  be  revealing  its  audacious  energies  in 
new  fields  of  thought  or  action.     Here  we  are 


SANTA  MARIA  DEL  MAR     305 

still  in  a  corner  of  the  old  Barcelona  that  Cer- 
vantes loved,  "  the  haven  of  strangers,  the 
asylum  of  the  poor."  It  is  more  than  this.  To 
be  in  a  church  so  complete  and  satisfying  in 
itself,  so  adequate  to  the  needs  it  is  intended  to 
fulfil,  is  itself  an  act  of  worship.  For  worship 
is  a  natural  form  of  human  energy,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  a  human  need,  of  which,  indeed,  the  forms 
may  grow  antiquated,  but  the  underlying  essence 
remains  undying.  And  when  in  Santa  Maria 
del  Mar  the  great  windows  blaze  gloriously  by 
turns  towards  evening,  and  the  sharp,  clear  voices 
of  the  girls  chant  sweetly  in  the  western  gallery, 
we  are  still  as  much  amid  the  essential  mani- 
festations of  life,  human  or  divine,  as  when  we 
enter  the  vast  market  close  by,  that  palace  full 
of  movement  and  delight,  where  the  piles  of  fruits 
down  the  long  aisles  form  symphonies  of  colour, 
and  two  women  sing  in  the  midst  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  violin. 


XI 

THE  GARDENS  OF  GEANADA 


What  is  the  place  of  the  Moor  in  Spanish 
national  life  ?  Was  he,  as  so  much  in  the 
civilisation  and  manners  of  the  people  suggests, 
an  integral  part  of  that  life  ?  Or  was  he,  as  the 
fierce  religious  and  political  struggle  between 
Christian  and  Moslem  suggests,  an  alien  and 
hostile  element  ?  That  is  a  question  concern- 
ing which,  even  to-day,  in  Spain  and  still 
more  outside  Spain,  people  are  apt  to  become 
partisans,  even  violent  partisans. 

It  will,  I  hope,  be  fairly  evident  to  those 
who  have  followed  me  through  the  preceding 
pages,  that  we  can  scarcely  understand  Spain 
unless  we  realise  that  the  Moor  was  in  very 
large  measure,  notwithstanding  political  and 
religious  divergencies,  a  part  of  what  we  know 
as  Spain.  The  points  of  contact  in  racial  origins 
and  in  culture  were  great.     It  was  religion  alone 

306 


THE  GARDENS   OF  GRANADA   307 

that  effaced  them,  for  religion  has  always  brought 
a  sword  among  men.  Calderon  and  the  other 
Spanish  poets  represent  a  Moorish  knight  as  in 
every  respect  like  a  Spanish  knight,  except  that 
he  calls  on  the  name  of  Allah  instead  of  Christ. 
This  was  more  than  a  common  poetic  license, 
it  was  entirely  legitimate.  The  Moor  took  from 
the  Spaniard,  and  he  gave  to  him.  During 
the  most  vigorous  period  of  national  develop- 
ment Moor  and  Spaniard  were  two  players  who 
in  every  field  of  life  and  of  art,  even  in  religion, 
were  perpetually  tossing  the  ball  back  from  one 
to  the  other.  The  Moor,  indeed,  was  in  many 
respects  a  more  alert  and  delicate  player,  for  he 
belonged  to  a  race  which,  though  allied,  was 
immigrant,  and  migration  to  a  new  soil  generally 
tends  to  evoke  qualities  of  finer  intelligence  than 
the  more  stolid  aboriginals  of  the  soil  possess. 
But  even  though  Moor  and  Christian  to  some 
extent  stood  apart,  and  though  the  Moor  could 
not  always  compete  with  the  Christian  in  energy, 
nor  the  Christian  with  the  Moor  in  refinement, 
they  alike  contributed  to  the  same  common  work 
of  national  civilisation ;  the  conquered  Moor,  as 
well  as  the  persecuted  Jew,  was  still  playing  his 
part  even  in  the  golden  age  of  Spain. 

An  interesting  illustration  of  the  fusion  and 
the  reciprocal  influence  of  Christian  and  Moslem 
is  furnished  by  the  women  of  Moorish  Spain. 
These  enjoyed  a  far  greater  freedom  than  the 


308  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

Islamic  women  of  Africa  and  the  East,  and  dis- 
tinguished themselves  by  their  literary  and  other 
achievements.  This  is  attributed  by  Simonet, 
the  eminent  Arabic  scholar  (in  his  interesting 
study  La  Muger  Arahigo-Hispana),  to  the 
permeating  influence  of  the  native  Spanish 
Christian  women,  who  were  preferred  by  the 
Moors  as  wives  to  their  own  women,  and  were 
thus  able  to  demand  very  favourable  conditions 
on  marriage.  Many  of  the  most  distinguished 
Moorish  women  were  of  Christian  descent.  But 
their  Christian  sisters,  apart  from  Moorish  in- 
fluence, usually  played  a  much  less  brilliant  part 
in  life. 

Just  as  in  religion  the  Moor  borrowed  from 
the  Christian,  and  the  Christian  again  from 
the  Moor — Christian  Neo-Platonism  becoming 
Sufism,  and  Sufism  through  Ramon  Lull 
Christian  mysticism — so  it  was  in  the  arts, 
and  notably  in  architecture.  All  the  ideas  of 
the  Moors  were  borrowed,  say  some,  and  their 
work  was  always  false.  The  Moors  were  the 
exquisite  and  consummate  craftsmen  without 
whose  aid  the  Christians  could  do  nothing,  others 
say.  There  is  some  truth  in  both  these  views. 
The  history  of  the  horse-shoe  arch,  for  instance, 
shows  how  intimately  each  side  contributed  to  a 
common  efi'ect.  The  horse -shoe  arch  in  its 
elemental  form  was  not  Moorish,  for  it  existed  in 
the  East  before  the  rise  of  Islam ;  it  was  intro- 


THE  GARDENS  OF  GRANADA   309 

duced  into  Spain  by  the  Visigoths,  whose  interest- 
ing and  still  little  known  civilisation  was  of 
Byzantine  origin,  like  that  of  the  Moors.  When 
the  Moors  came  to  Spain  they  found  the  horse- 
shoe arch  already  there,  and  they  adopted  it, 
exaggerated  it,  twisted  it  into  graceful  and 
fantastic  shapes.  When  the  Christians  used  it 
again  they  may  well  have  been  indebted  to  the 
Moors,  yet  they  were  merely  carrying  on  their 
own  ancient  traditions.^ 

When  we  thus  find  that  each  owes  so  much  to 
the  other,  it  becomes  futile  to  adopt  a  partisan 
attitude  in  this  matter.  To  do  so  is  to  ignore 
not  only  the  common  origins,  but  the  funda- 
mental resemblances  of  Moorish  and  Christian 
work.  Christian  plateresque  work  is  sometimes 
almost  as  delicate  as  Moorish  work.  Christian 
churrigueresque  almost  as  fantastic,  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  with  all  its  licentious  and  luxuriant 
caprice,  Moorish  art  knew  how  to  be  simple, 
dignified,  and  harmonious.  There  are  students 
of  Moorish  architecture  who  have  emphasised  its 
lawlessness,  its  instability,  its  defiance  of  the  laws 
of   architectural  construction.^      Yet   the  great 

^  Gomez-Moreno  ("Excursion  a  traves  del  arco  de  herradura," 
Cultura  EspaTbula,  vol.  iii.  1906,  p.  785)  has  an  interesting  illustrated 
article  on  the  early  history  of  the  horse-shoe  arch.  See  also  L.  Higgin, 
"  Visigothic  Art,"  Fortnightly  Review,  May  1907. 

^  This  view  of  the  fundamentally  weak  and  fantastic  character  of 
Moorish  and  allied  architecture  is  well  illustrated  by  an  interesting 
though  one-sided  article  by  L.  March  Phillips,  "The  Arab  in  Archi- 
tecture," Contemporary  Review,  May  1907. 


310  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

solid  Grothic  buildings,  as  we  learn  from  the  old 
chronicles,  were  continually  toppling  down, 
sometimes  directly  they  were  put  up,  while  the 
fragile  Alhambra,  whatever  its  defiance  of  con- 
structional  principles,  is  standing  still,  triumph- 
antly emerging  from  sudden  onslaughts  and  long 
neglect  which  have  reduced  the  later  Renaissance 
palace  of  Charles  V.  within  its  precincts  to  a 
mere  ruin.  Nor  is  it  true  that  the  Moor  in 
architecture  sacrificed  everything  to  trivial  and 
fantastic  detail.  To  show  his  firm  and  restrained 
sense  of  dignity,  harmony,  and  proportion,  it  is 
enough  to  point  to  the  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors 
at  Grranada,  where  exquisite  detail  is  always 
subordinated  to  the  efi'ect  of  the  whole.  The 
Sinagoga  del  Transito,  again,  at  Toledo,  that 
long  and  beautiful  hall,  so  finely  proportioned, 
so  perfectly  well  lighted  by  its  charming  window 
openings  high  up  beneath  the  ceiling,  though  its 
detail  is  less  exquisite,  still  shows  Moorish 
tradition  persisting,  and  proves  that  the 
Hall  of  the  Ambassadors  was  not  an  acci- 
dent. Christian  and  Moor  overlapped  in  the 
manifestation  of  qualities  that  were  common  to 
both.  Yet  at  the  extremes  the  individuality  of 
each  emerges,  strong,  isolated,  and  independent. 
In  Toledo  Cathedral  we  feel  nothing  of  the 
Moor,  in  the  most  characteristic  chambers  of 
the  Alhambra  we  can  with  difiiculty  trace  the 
Christian. 


THE   GARDENS  OF   GUANADA    311 


n 

The  lover  of  Spain  must  always  visit  Granada 
with  mixed  emotions.  The  Granada  of  the 
imagination  is  the  chief  home  of  Spanish 
romance.  From  our  early  years  Granada  has 
been  a  magic  name  to  so  many  of  us.  The  Cid, 
the  gate  Elvira,  the  Bibbarambla,  the  luckless 
Boabdil  driven  out  from  the  last  and  loveliest 
seat  of  Moorish  civilisation — all  these  have  from 
childhood  brought  before  us  a  city  which  could 
be  like  no  other  city  in  the  world. 

But  it  has  been  the  inevitable  effect  of  the 
beauty  and  the  power  of  Granada  to  evoke  those 
reactionary  forces  which  have  devastated  alike 
its  beauty  and  its  force.  There  are  three  ways 
especially  in  which  this  inevitable  reaction  has 
manifested  itself.  There  was,  first,  the  long 
delay  in  its  capture  by  the  Christians  due  to  its 
strength  and  position.  Majorca,  Cordova, 
Seville,  all  great  Moorish  centres,  were  captured 
in  rapid  succession  early  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  They  were  captured  in  days  w^hen 
not  only  on  the  Moorish,  but  also  on  the 
Christian  side  chivalrous  feelings  of  toleration 
and  respect  were  mutually  displayed.  In  all 
these  places  no  spirit  of  ferocious  destruction 
was  exerted,  and  in  all  three  much  of  the 
Moorish  spirit  has   survived   even   till   to-day. 


312  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

But  by  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  feeling 
on  both  sides  had  grown  embittered ;  with  the 
Moors  it  was  now  a  struggle  for  life,  and  on  the 
Christian  side  a  furious  eagerness  to  complete  a 
conquest  which  had  taken  so  long  to  achieve. 
Moreover,  the  terrible  weapon  of  the  Inquisition 
had  been  invented,  or  rather  refurbished,  and 
the  unscrupulous  Ferdinand,  the  able  but  bigoted 
Isabella,  between  them  devastated  Granada  so 
ruthlessly  that  it  has  never  since  recovered  from 
the  blow.  The  Christian  conquerors  sought 
indeed  to  build  up  where  they  had  destroyed, 
but  Christian  art  had  then  reached  a  period  of 
fantastic  decadence.  From  the  Christian  point  of 
view,  notwithstanding  the  noble  figures  which 
have  been  associated  with  it,  Granada  is  among 
the  least  attractive  of  Spanish  cities  ;  in  the 
church  of  San  Jeronimo  alone,  where  the  Gran 
Capitan  lies  buried,  can  we  realise  something  of 
the  grandeur  that  once  was  Spain. 

Granada  has  been  devastated  by  another 
invasion.  At  the  time  of  the  Peninsular  War 
it  was  discovered  by  the  English,  who  had  come 
to  the  assistance  of  the  Spanish  against  the 
French.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  arrived, 
planted  trees,  and  laid  out  the  grounds  of  the 
Alhambra  in  the  English  manner,  creating  a 
glen  haunted  by  nightingales,  which  is  unques- 
tionably delightful,  but  neither  typically  Spanish 
nor  in  any  degree  Moorish.     Then  Washington 


THE  GARDENS   OF  GRANADA   313 

Irving  came,  a  spiritual  Wellington,  and  con- 
quered Granada  for  literature,  as  later  Regnault 
by  his  stay  here  consecrated  it  for  art.  In  the 
meanwhile  the  Spaniards  themselves  awoke  to 
the  treasure  they  possessed  in  the  Alhambra, 
drove  out  the  tramps  and  washerwomen  who 
were  in  possession,  and  slowly  began  a  work  of 
restoration  which  still  continues.  Now  a  con- 
tinuous stream  of  tourists — English,  American, 
French,  German  —  pours  through  Granada. 
The  inflexible  Spanish  temperament  has  slowly 
adapted  itself  to  this  state  of  things.  Almost 
alone  of  Spanish  cities,  Granada  makes  the  ex- 
ploitation of  the  stranger  a  more  or  less  obtrusive 
industry.  Even  the  children  have  learnt  to  ask 
the  strangers  for  coppers,  an  indecorum  of  which 
few  other  Spanish  children  would  be  guilty.^ 
The  Alhambra,  the  supreme  pearl  of  Moorish 
art,  has  become  a  show-place,  a  carefully  kept 
museum.  Every  year  it  grows  more  rejuvenated, 
and  though  this  restoration  is  carried  out  with 
all  reverence,  it  is  never  beautiful  to  see  in  the 
aged  the  signs  of  artificial  youth. 

A  third  and  still  later  development  has  com- 
pleted the  destruction  of  Granada.  From  being 
a  dead  city  which  scarcely  existed  save  for  the 
tourist,   it  has  during  recent  years  acquired  a 

^  Begging  in  the  streets  has  now  been  prohibited  by  the  munici- 
pality in  Granada  (as  it  has  long  been  in  Seville),  and  a  system  of 
outdoor  relief  provided  for  the  really  suffering  poor. 


314  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

certain  amount  of  industrial  life  as  a  manufactur- 
ing town,  with  a  consequent  outburst  of  municipal 
energy.  A  petty  bourgeois  activity,  which 
seems  singularly  at  variance  with  its  traditions, 
now  animates  the  streets,  still  sparing  indeed 
the  ancient  and  picturesque  district  of  Albaicin, 
while  spasmodic  and  irregular  attempts  have 
been  made  to  modernise  the  city.  A  large 
portion  has  been  destroyed,  and  a  dreary  and 
unfinished  expanse  of  would-be  boulevard  has 
been  driven  through  its  centre.  It  is  difficult 
not  to  feel  that  the  industrial  activity  of  Granada 
is  parasitic,  and  this  is  really  the  case.  The 
Granadine  population  of  to-day  is  largely 
descended  from  Galician  and  Catalan  immigrants, 
and,  as  Oloriz  has  shown,  is  not  typically 
Andalusian. 

It  thus  comes  about  that  the  lover  of  Spain 
can  with  difficulty  find  himself  at  home  in 
Granada.  He  may  still  climb  the  hill — if  the 
electric  tramway  is  not  yet  completed — to  the 
old  Moorish  stronghold  and  palace,  to  take 
refuge  in  the  Alhambra.  Nothing  can  dim  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  those  courts  and  halls.  The 
most  delicate  and  fragile  of  all  human  architec- 
tural construction,  they  have  yet  outlived  all 
the  revolutionary  cataclysms  which  have  over- 
taken Spain.  In  these  courts  and  halls,  in 
innumerable  corners  and  by-ways,  it  is  always 
delightful  to  wander,  for  here  we  catch  a  faint 


THE  GARDENS  OF  GRANADA   315 

reflection  of  one  of  the  most  exquisite  civilisa- 
tions that  the  world  has  seen.  Every  one  finds 
something  which  makes  a  special  appeal  to  him. 
For  my  own  part  I  delight  in  the  Byzantine 
lions  who  stand  in  a  ring  in  the  midst  of  the 
court  which  bears  their  name.  No  photograph 
does  justice  to  these  delicious  beasts.  They  are 
models  of  a  deliberately  conventional  art  which  yet 
never  becomes  extravagant  or  grotesque.  They 
are  quite  unreal,  and  yet  they  have  a  real  life  of 
their  own.  Their  heads  are  rounded  and  flattened, 
their  nostrils  form  semi-circles,  their  eyes  con- 
sist of  two  concentric  eye-shaped  slits,  the  ears 
are  all  harmoniously  semi-circular ;  the  manes 
form  regular  loops ;  the  legs  are  squarish,  and 
the  bodies  taper  somewhat  towards  the  tail, 
which  each  animal  carries  between  his  hind  legs 
and  holds  in  a  curve  close  against  his  left  flank. 
They  are  altogether  deliberately  conventionalised 
to  an  extreme  extent,  and  yet  they  are  vigorous 
and  robust  creatures,  each  perfectly  able  to 
fulfil  his  function  of  supporting  a  pillar  of  the 
great  basin,  and  spouting  a  large  jet  of  water 
from  his  mouth.  Byzantine  as  their  conception 
may  be  in  origin,  nothing  could  be  more  finely 
in  keeping  with  the  highly  conventionalised 
manner  of  Moorish  architecture. 


316  THE  SOUL   OF   SPAIN 


III 

As  we  learn  to  know  Granada  better,  how- 
ever, there  are  certain  recurring  features  of  the 
place,  apart  from  its  jewels  of  Moorish  architec- 
ture, w^hich  begin  to  leave  an  agreeable  impression 
on  the  mind.  In  time  what  is  harsh  and  un- 
pleasant falls  into  the  background,  and  at  last 
Granada  becomes  to  us  above  all  a  city  of 
gardens  and  waters.  Like  the  Alhambra  itself 
these  also  are  reminiscences  of  the  Moors. 
Gardens  and  waters  remain  delicious  wherever 
the  Moor  has  left  his  impress.  In  Cordova  there 
are  no  spots  that  one  haunts  so  persistently  as 
the  splendid  court  into  which  the  cathedral 
opens,  the  Court  of  the  Oranges  to  which  the 
women  come  to  draw  water,^  and  the  ancient  and 
solitary   garden   of   the   ruined    Alcazar.       The 

1  When  the  edifice  was  entirely  open  to  the  court  on  this  side,  as 
was  the  case  before  the  mosque  became  a  church,  the  effect  from  within 
and  from  without  must  have  been  still  more  delightful.  I  refer 
especially  to  the  beauty  of  this  aspect  of  the  mosque,  because  on  the 
whole  it  seems  to  me  that  much  indiscriminating  enthusiasm  has 
been  expended  on  this  building.  The  tourist  seems  to  arrive  here  with 
an  accumulated  stock  of  rapturous  rhetoric  which  he  is  unwilling  to 
throw  away.  Cordova  is  a  great  city  with  a  great  and  glorious 
history,  and  the  mosque  is  a  fascinatingly  interesting  object  to  study, 
for  it  enables  us  to  understand  the  evolution  of  Moorish  art,  still 
moved  by  almost  Christian  ideas,  feeling  its  way  from  Visigothic 
sources,  even  using  at  random  much  of  the  material  the  Goths  had 
left.  But,  notbwithstanding  the  charm  and  beauty  of  parts,  its 
sesthetic  value  as  a  whole  is  not  considerable.  It  is  interesting  to 
find  that  so  appreciative  a  student  of  Moorish  antiquity  as  Valera, 
himself  a  Cordovan,  expresses  no  great  admiration  for  the  mosque. 


THE  GARDENS   OF  GRANADA   317 

Christians  who  hastened  to  wipe  out  the  hated 
civilisation  of  the  Moors  in  Granada  for  the 
most  part  spared  their  gardens  and  their  streams, 
even  though  only  in  a  spirit  of  careless  disdain. 
So  it  is  that  as  one  passes  along  the  streets  of 
this  city,  built  on  the  banks  of  two  rivers,  one 
seldom  loses  the  sound  of  splashing  and  gushing 
waters,  or  the  sight  of  jetting  and  flowing 
streamlets,  while  there  are  few  cities  of  its  size 
which  hold  so  many  quaint  and  exquisite 
gardens.  At  Malaga,  not  far  off,  a  land  of 
perpetual  summer,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  that 
there  is  one  public  garden,  though  many 
luxurious  private  gardens,  and  even  in  Moorish 
Cordova  gardens  are  few.  But  here  the 
Moorish  influence  has  persisted,  in  the  end  it 
has  even  triumphed.  The  luxuriant  Alameda 
of  the  Alhambra,  in  the  manner  of  an  English 
park,  and  the  splendid  Paseo  along  the  banks 
of  the  Genii  in  the  Spanish  manner,  are  alike 
comparatively  modern  and  both  in  their  way 
admirable.  In  the  Jardin  de  los  Adarves,  a 
terrace  on  the  verge  of  the  Alhambra  hill,  we 
have  a  more  ancient  and  more  typically  Moorish 
garden.  This  trellised  retreat,  entered  by  its 
massive  gate  covered  with  iron  scallop  shells, 
shut  off  from  the  world,  yet — like  so  many  of 
the  gardens  of  Granada — with  a  wide  and  ex- 
quisite outlook  over  the  plain  and  the  delicate 
snow-capped  hills  in  the  distance,  might  well  be 


318  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

the  home  of  an  Arab  sufi^  an  ideal  spot  for 
devout  or  philosophic  meditation  on  the  prob- 
lems of  the  world. 

Here  and  there  throughout  Granada  and  in 
its  environs  one  comes  upon  fragments  of  garden 
in  which  the  Moorish  tradition  is  maintained,  in 
some  cases  it  would  seem  almost  undisturbed. 
But  the  most  admirable  ■  and  typical  Moorish 
gardens  in  Granada  are  those  of  the  Generalife, 
— the  summer  garden  palace  of  the  Moorish 
princes,  on  the  heights  towards  the  Silla  del 
Moro, — and  these  at  last  seem  the  most 
delightful  haunt  in  Granada,  for  in  this  almost 
deserted  and  neglected  spot  one  escapes  the 
oppression  of  a  show-place  which  so  often  weighs 
on  one  in  the  courts  of  the  Alhambra.  The 
buildino;s  of  the  Generalife  are  indeed  of  much 
less  extent  than  those  of  the  Alhambra,  and  its 
interiors  have  in  the  past  been  very  much  spoilt, 
though  the  whole  place  is  now  preserved  in  a 
conservative  spirit  of  agreeable  negligence.  We 
mount  the  pleasant  path  from  the  Alhambra, 
which  we  see  spread  out  beneath  us,  to  the 
Generalife  with  its  gardens,  perched  on  terraces 
on  a  slope,  and  really  occupying  a  very  small 
space,  yet  one  may  wander  about  them  for  a 
long  time  continually  finding  new  features.  The 
Moor — in  this  unlike  the  Christian  Spaniard  who 
has  chiefly  sought  the  vast,  the  mysterious,  the 
majestical — was  enamoured  of  small  and  delicate 


THE   GARDENS   OF   GRANADA   319 

things.  He  might  have  said  with  Cowley,  "  I 
love  littleness  almost  in  all  things :  a  little 
convenient  estate,  a  little  cheerful  house,  a  little 
company,  and  a  very  little  feast."  Herein,  let 
us  be  sure,  the  Moors  showed  their  insight  into 
the  art  of  living.  The  largest  feature  of  the 
Generalife  meets  us  as  we  enter,  a  charming 
court,  full  of  trees  and  flowers,  a  homely  and 
smaller  version  of  the  Court  of  the  Myrtles  at 
the  Alhambra.  A  flight  of  steps  brings  us  to 
another  still  smaller  court,  recalling  the  Court 
of  the  Reja  at  the  Alhambra.  Here  is  a  very 
large  old  cypress.  Above  this  court  again,  and 
reached  by  brick  and  stone  steps,  are  five 
terraces,  each  containing  one  or  more  little 
gardens  of  diversified  character,  often  with 
fountains,  and  with  walls  which  seem  to  increase 
enormously  the  apparent  extent  of  the  grounds, 
yet  are  never  in  the  way,  and  always  covered  by 
luxuriant  vegetation.  The  pathway,  extending 
from  the  lowest  terrace  but  one  up  to  the  top, 
is  almost  purely  Moorish ;  it  consists  of  short 
flights  of  brick  steps,  each  flight  opening  out 
into  a  circle,  with  semicircular  balustrades  at 
each  side,  paved  with  pebbles  in  mosaic  patterns 
after  the  fashion  so  common  in  Granada,  with  a 
fountain  in  the  middle,  and  water  running  in  a 
channel  of  inverted  tiles  along  the  top  of  the 
whole  length  of  the  balustrades.  The  gardens 
are  for  the  most  part   laid   out  in  the  formal 


320  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

manner  familiar  in  the  gardening  art  of  many 
countries,  with  symmetrically  designed  flower- 
beds and  high  box  edges  clipped  flat  at  the  top 
and  straight  at  the  sides.  Everywhere  there  is 
the  sound  of  water ;  and  on  Sundays  not  only 
the  fountains,  which  are  always  playing,  but  the 
little  jets  everywhere  are  squirting  out  their 
playful  cooling  streamlets  in  all  directions.  Here 
we  realise,  perhaps  better  even  than  in  the 
Alhambra,  the  more  homely  charm  of  Moorish 
life  and  Moorish  ideals — the  love  of  pure  air  and 
all-present  water,  of  small  and  circumscribed,  but 
elaborately  wrought  garden  plots,  looking  out  on 
a  large  and  lovely  expanse  of  scenery. 

Here,  too,  with  the  great  red  towers  of  the 
Alhambra  on  their  height  below  us,  we  forget 
that  Granada  which  represents  the  victory  of 
the  least  amiable  moment  of  Christianity  over 
the  most  exquisite  moment  of  Islam.  We  are 
amid  the  relics  of  one  of  the  finest  civilisations 
the  world  has  known,  a  civilisation  we  can  only 
learn  to  know  perfectly  in  the  pages  of  the 
Thousand  and  One  Nights. 


XII 
SEGOVIA 


It  sometimes  happens  to  the  traveller  that  a 
place  he  had  all  his  life  looked  forward  to  visit 
fails  entirely  to  make  on  him  the  overwhelming 
impression  he  anticipated.  I  experienced  this 
disillusion  in  the  Blue  Grotto  at  Capri,  a  spot 
which  from  childhood  had  framed  itself  in  my 
imagination  as  a  vision  of  wondrous  beauty. 
Once  again  this  was  my  experience  at  Granada, 
a  city  which  had  embodied  in  my  dreams  a 
whole  world  of  romance  and  chivalry.  Segovia, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  approached  with  an  open 
mind.  The  name  indeed,  with  the  ancient 
Roman  ring  in  the  sound  of  it,  had  long  been 
familiar  to  me.  I  knew  also  that  it  was  a  city 
on  a  hill,  Hke  a  great  ship  with  sails  set  towards 
the  west,  the  mediaeval  Alcazar  at  the  prow  and 
the  mighty  Roman  aqueduct  stretching  far  to 
stern.     But  I  reached  Segovia  with  no  romantic 

321  Y 


322  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

illusions  to  be  realised  or  destroyed.     Now  that 
I  leave  it,  after  too  brief  a  stay,  I  feel  that  I  am 
leaving  what  is   to-day   still   one   of  the   most 
delightful  of  Spanish  cities.     The  charm  that  I 
once  missed  in  Granada  I  have  found  in  Segovia. 
Here  is  the   real  type  of  a  "dead  city,"  still 
serenely  sleeping,  in  a  dream  of  which  the  spell 
has  been  broken  neither  by  the  desecrating  hand 
of  the  tourist  crowd,  nor  by  the  inrush  of  com- 
mercial activity,  nor  by  any  native  anxiety  for 
self- exploitation.     How   deeply   Segovia    sleeps 
the  bats  well  know,  and  as  evening  falls  they 
almost  dare  to  enter  one's  window  in  the  heart 
of  the  city.     Toledo,  Granada,  Avila  have  been 
awakened  from  their  charmed  sleep;    they  are 
learning  the  lessons  of  modern  Hfe,  and  at  the 
least  they  are  beginning  to  know  how  to  utilise 
the  tourist,  so  that  the  stranger  can  no  longer 
wander  at  peace  in  their  streets  dreaming  of  the 
past.     Segovia  is  still  only  a  goal  for  travellers 
who  are  few  and  for  the  most  part  fit. 

II 

Segovia  bears  a  general  resemblance  to  Toledo, 
which  is,  indeed,  the  supreme  type  of  the  Spanish 
city;  but  it  is  still  more  loftily  placed,  it  is 
more  exactly  girdled  by  waters — though  its  two 
clamorous  little  streams  in  no  degree  approach 
the  majesty  of  the  Tagus — and  it  is  surrounded 


SEGOVIA  323 

by  a  still  fresher  expanse  of  verdure.  It  is  a 
natural  fortress  accidentally  placed  in  an  unusu- 
ally delightful  site. 

This  character  of  Segovia  as  in  a  very  com- 
plete degree  a  natural  fortress,  made  its  repu- 
tation at  the  beginning  of  Spanish  history,  and 
indeed  earlier,  for  its  name  is  said  to  be  of 
primitive  Iberian  origin.  The  Romans  expressed 
their  sense  of  the  importance  of  Segovia  by 
planting  here  for  ever  the  solidest  of  their 
monuments,  the  mighty  aqueduct  which  brings 
the  pure,  cold  waters  of  the  Fuenfria  from  the 
Guadarrama  Mountains  ten  miles  away.  The 
Moors  held  Segovia  for  an  unknown  period,  and 
the  palace-fortress  or  Alcazar,  which  they  doubt- 
less erected  on  what  is  the  inevitable  site  for 
such  a  structure,  became,  in  a  remodelled  and 
rebuilt  form,  the  home  of  Alfonso  the  Wise,  who 
here  uttered  the  famous  saying  that  he  could 
have  suggested  improvements  in  the  universe 
had  the  Creator  consulted  him,  whereupon, 
according  to  the  monkish  chronicler,  a  terrific 
thunderstorm  burst  over  the  Alcazar  and  warned 
the  audacious  monarch  of  his  wickedness.  The 
destruction  which  Alfonso's  repentance  arrested 
seems,  however,  only  to  have  been  temporarily 
delayed,  for  half  a  century  ago  the  incomparable 
beauty  and  antiquity  of  the  interior  of  the 
Alcazar  was  totally  destroyed  by  fire,  and  work 
— the  finest  production  of  fifteenth-century  artists 


324  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

and  craftsmen — whicli  is  recorded  to  have  left 
on  the  minds  of  all  who  saw  it  "an  ideal  memory 
of  magic  splendour,"  vanished  from  earth  for 
ever,  leaving  nothing  behind  but  a  few  inscrip- 
tions, a  few  arabesque  friezes.  To  outward 
view,  however,  even  to-day,  when  it  is  merely 
a  receptacle  of  military  archives,  the  Alcazar 
stands  as  superbly  as  ever,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  examples  that  remain  of  a  mediaeval 
fortress. 

As  long  as  strong  places  were  necessary  Segovia 
was  prosperous,  but  when  at  length  Spain  became 
united,  Segovia's  part  in  its  life  was  played.  It 
remains  to-day  a  city  that  is  mainly  Roman, 
Eomanesque,  and  mediaeval.  There  is  nothing 
in  it  of  importance  later  than  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  the  only  great  contribution  which 
that  century  made  was  the  cathedral.  That, 
certainly,  was  no  minor  addition,  for  the  dome 
of  the  cathedral  crowns  Segovia  at  its  highest 
and  most  central  point,  and  is  for  its  own 
architectural  sake,  moreover,  of  great  interest. 
It  represents  the  finest  ultimate  development  of 
a  peculiarly  Spanish  movement  in  architecture. 
Long  before  its  erection,  at  Zamora,  the  ancient 
small  Romanesque  church  of  early  Spain  had 
begun  to  grow  to  larger  and  airier  shapes,  and 
its  development  manifested  itself  most  character- 
istically in  the  formation  of  a  central  dome,  or 
cimhorio,  over  the  transepts,  as  peculiar  a  feature, 


SEGOVIA  325 

both  internally  and  externally,  of  the  fully 
evolved  northern  Spanish  church,  especially  in 
Castile,  as  the  square  central  tower — superbly 
manifested  in  the  Bell-Harry  tower  of  Canterbury 
— is  a  typical  external  character  of  large  English 
churches  that  have  attained  their  full  natural  de- 
velopment. This  Spanish  type  of  church,  which 
slowly  evolved  in  the  region  between  Zamora, 
Astorga,  Salamanca,  and  Segovia,  afterwards 
becoming  more  widely  extended,  is  counted  as 
a  development  of  Gothic,  but  it  was  a  Gothic 
development  which  arose  in  a  land  where  Roman- 
esque elements  had  always  been  strong,  and  at 
a  period  when  the  Renaissance  movement  had 
already  reintroduced  the  classic  modes  of  archi- 
tecture. It  is  scarcely  surprising  that — though, 
according  to  Fergusson,  Segovia  Cathedral  is 
hardly  a  Renaissance  work  in  any  respect — this 
type  of  Gothic  produces  a  peculiarly  classic 
impression ;  its  most  conspicuous  character, 
indeed,  the  dome,  is  altogether  aside  from 
Gothic  ideals,  and  in  harmony  with  Roman- 
esque. The  old  Gothic  principles  are  there, 
but  attenuated,  modified,  transformed ;  the  spirit 
is  no  longer  truly  Gothic,  the  details  are  no 
longer  characteristically  Gothic.  The  new  cathe- 
dral of  Salamanca  is  almost  a  Renaissance  edifice 
outside,  and  if  Segovia  Cathedral  must  be  counted 
as  Gothic,  it  is  perhaps,  as  Street  remarks,  the 
last  Gothic  building  erected.     Yet  it  is  a  genuine 


326  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

growth,  beautiful  and  harmonious,  a  natural 
hybrid.  Salamanca  Cathedral  is  a  splendid  and 
impressive  example  of  this  final  manifestation 
of  decadent  Gothic ;  but  Segovia,  which  is  a 
later  work  of  the  same  brilliant  and  accom- 
plished architect,  seems  to  me  an  even  finer  and 
more  faultless  example  of  the  style.  He  found 
at  Segovia,  in  the  cloisters  that  had  been  added 
to  the  old  cathedral  half  a  century  before — and 
were  a  little  later  to  be  carried  by  the  indefati- 
gable Segovians,  stone  by  stone,  to  the  new  site 
where  they  still  stand — a  piece  of  work  that 
may  well  have  stimulated  his  finest  efforts. 
These  cloisters  are  certainly  one  of  the  finest 
things  in  advanced  Gothic  to  be  found  in  Spain, 
flamboyant  yet  restrained,  a  delicate  and  digni- 
fied late  Gothic  without  any  of  the  florid  excesses 
into  which  it  so  easily  fell.  This  is  the  spirit 
which  seems  to  rule  the  cathedral.  It  is  far  less 
exuberant  than  Salamanca ;  the  west  end  is 
severe  in  its  almost  bald  but  dignified  simplicity  ; 
the  east  end,  with  its  chevet,  is  a  masterpiece 
of  gracious  felicity.  There  is  nowhere  any  irri- 
tating excess  of  restless  detail  to  jar  the  note 
of  sober  gaiety  which  dominates  the  whole.  The 
tendency  to  nimiety,  as  Coleridge  would  have 
called  it,  the  excessiveness  of  the  Spanish 
temperament,  has  for  one  happy  moment  been 
held  in  due  restraint.  It  may  well  have  been 
that  Juan  Gil,  rich  in  the  experience  of  a  life- 


SEGOVIA  327 

time  of  great  work,  deliberately  intended  to 
do  over  again  better,  with  more  swift  and  sure 
inspiration,  what  he  had  already  attempted  at 
Salamanca,  for  he  followed  somewhat  the  same 
plan,  although  he  had  been  given  a  free  hand. 
It  is  also  very  probable  that  the  greater  unity 
and  simplicity  of  the  building  were  aided  by 
lack  of  money,  for,  unlike  Salamanca,  the  city 
was  nearing  the  end  of  its  long  career  of  vigorous 
life,  and  the  Segovians  made  incredible  sacrifices 
for  the  sake  of  their  new  cathedral,  mainly  built, 
indeed,  by  the  efforts  of  the  poor.  Poverty,  one 
suspects,  may  account  for  the  flat  and  blank 
west  front,  admired  as  it  is,  facing  the  beautiful 
and  usually  deserted  courtyard,  such  as  Astorga 
and  the  other  great  churches  of  this  region  often 
possess.  The  cathedral  was  opened,  with  much 
rejoicing,  in  1558,  but  its  final  completion  lan- 
guished in  the  general  languor  that  overtook 
Segovia,  though  then  a  centre  of  Spanish  woollen 
manufacture,  and  it  was  not  until  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century — but  yesterday  in  the 
city's  long  history  —  that  it  was  possible  to 
consecrate  the  cathedral  as  a  whole.  It  is  the 
last  great  monument  of  essential  art  at  Segovia, 
though  the  first  to  strike  our  attention.  The 
real  ecclesiastical  history  of  Segovia  belonged 
to  an  earlier  age.  Like  Zamora  and  like  Avila, 
Segovia  was  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity 
before  the  ideals  of  Gothic  had  conquered  Castile, 


328  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

and  Segovia  is  now  one  of  the  chief  homes  in 
Spain  of  the  Romanesque  church. 

To  understand  the  splendid  efflorescence  of 
Romanesque  architecture  in  Segovia  we  must  try 
to  understand  a  little  of  the  obscure  mediaeval 
history  of  the  city.  For  a  very  long  period 
Segovia  was  on  the  border-land  between  Moors 
and  Christians.  The  Christians  had  their  base 
in  Asturias  and  Burgos  to  the  north ;  the  Moors 
were  planted  on  the  heights  of  Toledo  to  the 
south.  Segovia,  the  capital  of  an  intervening 
Entremadura  district — which  means  the  region 
to  the  south  of  the  Douro,  with  its  apex  at  the 
junction  of  the  Sierras  of  Avila  and  Guadarrama 
— was  sometimes  in  the  hands  of  one  party, 
sometimes  in  the  hands  of  the  other.  It  was 
a  process  which  seems  to  have  had  a  hardening 
and  invigorating  effect  on  the  men  of  this  region, 
though  it  devastated  their  country.  The  people 
of  the  Entremadura  became,  as  described  in  a 
doggerel  Latin  poem,  innumerable  as  locusts, 
robust  and  reckless,  so  hardy  that  they  despised 
the  heats  of  summer,  could  bear  any  excess  in 
wine,  and  had  no  fear  even  of  death  itself.  But 
as  a  centre  of  civilisation  Segovia  could  hardly 
flourish  under  these  harassing  and  ever  shifting 
conditions.  When  it  fell  finally  into  Christian 
hands  is  not  definitely  known.  In  960  it  was 
still  Moorish,  as  we  learn  from  the  Cufic  inscrip- 
tion on  a  beautiful  marble  capital  of  Corinthian 


SEGOVIA  329 

type  but  Moorish  workmanship — the  one  ex- 
quisite rehc  of  a  lost  edifice — which  wa.s  found 
with  its  jasper  column  not  far  from  the  Alcazar. 
But  in  the  first  half  of  the  following  century 
there  was,  we  know,  a  general  increase  in 
Christian  activity,  and  it  seems  probable,  since 
there  is  no  record  of  any  great  struggle  here, 
that  the  Moors  quietly  abandoned  Segovia  as 
part  of  a  strategic  movement  towards  threatened 
Toledo.  "  It  was  many  years  desolate,"  an  old 
chronicle  says,  and  probably  not  until  Toledo 
itself  fell  was  there  an  end  to  the  desolating 
ebb  and  flow  of  Moor  and  Christian  over  thia 
region.  During  that  long  period  old  Christian 
and  late  Moorish  civilisation  had  alike  been 
washed  away.  In  the  Segovia  we  see  to-day 
a  great  gulf  of  a  thousand  years  lies  between 
the  aqueduct  and  the  Romanesque  churches 
which  now,  when  another  thousand  years  are 
almost  passed,  impart  to  Segovia  its  remote  air 
of  ruined  antiquity.  In  Christian  hands  the  city 
was  almost  born  anew.  It  was  populated  with 
Entremadurans  from  outside,  mostly  moun- 
taineers from  the  north.  They  were  a  turbulent 
population  at  first,  it  seems,  these  new  Segovians, 
accustomed  to  fighting  and  breeding  cattle, — 
in  which  latter  occupation  the  men  of  this 
district  still  excel, — but  the  work  of  civilisation 
progressed.  Early  in  the  twelfth  century  the 
mighty    and    magnificent    Alcazar    was    solidly 


330  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

raised  under  the  inspiration  of  the  three  Alfonsos, 
who  spent  much  of  their  time  here,  and  during 
the  twelfth  and  at  latest  the  thirteenth  century 
the  great  array  of  parochial  churches  now  slowly 
falling  to  decay,  all  Romanesque,  were  built. 
That  was  the  flowering  time  for  Segovia.  Alfonso 
the  Wise,  the  thirteenth-century  monarch  who 
made  his  favourite  home  in  the  splendid  Alcazar 
of  the  proud  city  he  filled  with  churches  to  the 
honour  of  the  God  whose  creative  skill  legend 
says  that  he  questioned,  marks  the  supreme 
moment  of  Segovia's  glory.  Afterwards  nothing 
was  left  to  do  but  to  place  the  beautiful  crown 
of  the  cathedral  dome  on  the  central  summit 
of  the  city.  In  the  six  centuries  that  have  since 
elapsed  Segovia  has  otherwise  remained  practi- 
cally untouched ;  there  was  nothing  more  to 
do ;  she  has  reclined  in  this  lovely  air,  beneath 
her  sunny  skies  and  amid  her  green  and  snowy 
hills,  holding  her  antique  garments  around  her 
still,  though  with  a  loose  and  careless  grasp, 
sinking  ever  into  a  deeper  and  more  peaceful 
sleep. 

HI 

It  thus  comes  about  that  when  we  wander 
to-day  through  the  streets  of  Segovia  we  feel 
ourselves  back  in  a  Romanesque  city.  It  is 
still  full  of  parish  churches,  not  one  of  them 
said  to  be  later  than  the  thirteenth    century, 


SEGOVIA  331 

and  the  slow  shrinkage  of  the  population,  com- 
pensated by  no  such  modern  industrial  expan- 
sion as  we  find  in  Granada  and  Toledo — for 
the  presence  of  a  barracks  and  some  associated 
military  avocations  alone  seem  to  give  Segovia 
any  simulacrum  of  life — has  left  nearly  all  these 
churches  more  or  less  untouched,  some  still  in 
use,  some  locked  up  and  abandoned,  one  or  two 
used  as  museums  or  for  other  secular  purposes, 
and  a  considerable  number  in  a  more  or  less 
advanced  state  of  ruin  and  decay.  The  most 
important  of  them,  indeed,  San  Esteban,  is 
undergoing  a  sort  of  restoration ;  its  mighty 
square  four  -  storey  ed  tower  —  "the  queen  of 
Spanish  Byzantine  towers "  —  has  been  taken 
down  because  it  threatened  to  fall,  and  at 
present  only  a  high  mass  of  scaffolding  marks 
what  was  once  a  chief  landmark  of  the  city. 
That  is  the  one  stirring  of  life  among  the  for- 
saken churches  of  Segovia. 

The  special  characteristic  of  the  Romanesque 
churches  of  Segovia  is  the  cloister -like  corridor 
which  frequently  runs  along  one  or  more  of  their 
external  walls.  No  other  Spanish  city  that  I 
am  acquainted  with  shows  this  feature  in  so 
marked  and  persistent  a  way.  It  admirably  fits 
the  Romanesque  style,  relieving  the  edifice  of 
the  somewhat  heavy  and  sepulchral  character 
it  is  apt  to  assume,  and  it  adds  a  new  charm 
and   grace   to   the   city,   for  these   arcades   and 


332  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

colonnades  bridge  over  the  sacred  and  secular 
aspects  of  social  life,  and  admirably  harmonise 
the  vista. ^  Here,  at  San  Esteban,  we  have  a 
fine  antique  example,  untouched  in  the  task 
of  pulling  down  the  great  tower.  San  Martin, 
however,  conspicuously  placed  on  a  height  in 
the  main  street,  has  perhaps  the  most  notable 
of  these  arcades  within  the  city  walls,  but  though 
it  was  once,  doubtless,  crowded  by  clergy  and 
people,  it  is  now  inaccessible  and  deserted,  save 
for  a  few  stray  feet  when  service  is  proceeding. 

It  is  the  silent  desolation  of  these  old  churches 
which,  more  vividly  than  anything  else,  in  a  land 
that  is  still  so  pious  as  Spain,  makes  us  realise 
that  we  are  in  a  dead  city.  Often  in  ruins,  some 
of  them  are  still  locked,  and  in  one  or  two  rare 
cases  a  guardian  faintly  jingles  the  keys  as  he 
sees  the  stranger  approach,  but  otherwise  remains 
impassive ;  for  the  most  part  not  a  solitary 
person  is  to  be  seen  near  these  old  churches. 
One  passes  out  through  the  northern  gate  in 
the  city  walls,  and  descends  to  the  little  round 
church  of  the  Templars,  the  Vera  Cruz,  beneath 
the  heights  of  the  Alcazar.  The  fine  little  church 
is  still  seated  firmly  on  its  rocky  foundation  ;  the 
deserted  road  winds  by  towards  the  hills  ;  across 
the  path  lies  the  silent,  peaceful  monastery  founded 
by  San  Juan  de  la  Cruz,  the  holy  mystic  whose 

^  street  considers  that  these  external  cloisters  had  the  practical  object 
of  keeping  the  church  cool. 


SEGOVIA  833 

name  stands  beside  that  of  his  friend  St.  Theresa, 
and  whose  body  now  lies  in  its  marble  urn  on 
the  altar  within.  But  the  beautiful  church  was 
locked  up,  deprived  of  the  fragment  of  "  true 
cross  "  of  which  it  was  the  casket,  and  deserted 
nearly  three  centuries  ago,  and  no  sound  is  heard 
save  now  and  again  the  clang  of  the  neighbour- 
ing convent  bell.  Or,  once  more,  we  turn  out 
of  a  Segovian  street  into  the  little  square  which 
is  almost  filled  with  the  small  church  of  San 
Pablo,  and  we  wander  around  it  and  around, 
to  find  no  entrance  and  no  soul  to  inquire  of, 
until  we  realise  that  this  church,  too,  was 
abandoned  maybe  centuries  ago,  and  we  feel 
like  those  wanderers  in  strange  lands  who,  as 
the  Arabian  Nights  tells  us,  sometimes  found 
themselves  in  dead  and  deserted  cities  which 
ofi"ered  no  clue  to  their  mystery.  Or,  once 
again,  we  turn  down  an  alley  and  reach  a  rough 
plateau  on  the  northern  edge  of  the  city  over- 
looking the  plain  below,  where  stands  San  Juan, 
half-ruinous  and  solitary,  enclosing  within  locked 
doors,  beneath  the  splendid  wrecks  of  their  tombs, 
some  of  the  chief  of  Segovia's  sons,  not  least 
some  of  the  conquistadores  who  had  gone  out 
into  the  world  in  quest  of  adventure,  and  quietly 
returned  at  last  to  seek  repose  in  the  sunny  and 
sombre  silence  of  this  ragged  edge  of  the  Dead 
City,  unlearned  adventurers,  but  ready  to  say, 
no  doubt,  in  the  old  Roman  manner,  which  is 


334  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

also  Spanish,  of  their  fellow-citizen,  the  learned 
physician  of  popes  and  emperors,  Andrea  Laguna, 
now  lying  in  San  Miguel,  in  the  market-place : 

Inveni  portum  :  spes  et  fortuoa  valete  : 
Nil  mihi  vobiscum  :  ludite  nunc  aliis. 

Fortune  and  Hope  farewell  !     With  others  you  may  sport : 
I  need  you  now  no  more :  I  am  come  into  port. 


IV 

In  one's  final  impression  of  Segovia  there 
stands  out  not  alone,  or  perhaps  even  chiefly, 
the  lofty  city  itself,  in  its  pride  that  has  grown 
silent  and  its  splendour  that  is  now  tattered. 
One  thinks  at  least  as  much  of  the  delightful 
setting  in  which  this  rough  mediaeval  jewel  is 
placed,  as  it  hangs  suspended  by  the  links  of 
its  aqueduct  from  the  Guadarrama  Mountains. 
Here  and  there,  indeed,  from  within  the  city 
itself,  we  catch  fascinating  glimpses  of  the 
country  below  and  around ;  there  is  a  splendid 
outlook  from  the  great  Esplanade — the  site  of 
the  early  vanished  Byzantine  cathedral — which 
separates  the  Alcazar  from  the  city ;  and  the 
Paseo,  scooped  out  on  the  southern  side  of  the 
height — whither  the  military  band  on  Sunday 
evenings  attracts  the  women  of  beauty  and 
fashion  in  Segovia,  mostly,  it  would  seem,  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  the  officers  quartered 
here — gives  us  another  vision  of  the  environing 


SEGOVIA  335 

hills.  They  are  not  rugged  or  forbidding  in  aspect, 
these  softly  undulating  hills,  and  they  shelter,  not 
far  off,  the  palace  gardens  of  La  Granja,  one  of 
the  chief  summer  resorts  of  Spanish  kings,  yet 
they  are  high  enough  to  be  covered  with  snow 
even  in  early  summer.  That  superb  white  mantle 
which  cloaks  the  loftier  undulations  to  the  south- 
east, and  seems  so  strangely  near  in  this  clear  air, 
gives  a  deliciously  keen  edge  to  the  hot  sun  ;  and 
we  feel  here  the  presence,  for  once  in  harmonious 
conjunction,  of  those  two  purities  of  ice  and  flame 
which  penetrate  and  subdue  all  this  land  of  Castile, 
and  are  also  of  the  very  essence  of  its  soul. 

It  is  equally  tempting  to  descend  the  zigzag 
roads  and  issue  by  the  old  gates  on  the  one  side 
or  the  other  of  the  city,  on  the  north  across  the 
Eresma,  or  on  the  south  across  the  Clamores. 
If  we  descend  on  the  north  side  by  the  steep 
but  pleasant  roads,  amid  the  sound  of  running 
waters  in  the  shaded  clifis  by  the  side,  we  reach, 
just  outside  the  walls,  the  abandoned  monastery 
of  Santa  Cruz,  built  over  the  dark  cave  in  which 
the  austere  Domingo  de  Guzman  lived.  Torque- 
mada  was  once  prior  here,  and  many  saints  and 
kings  and  princes  came  hither  to  worship ;  now 
its  decayed  splendour  forms  an  asylum  for  the 
poor,  and  in  front  of  the  beautiful  portal  an  old 
man  sits  motionless  in  the  sun.  We  cross  the 
Eresma  and  pass  the  old  Fabrica  de  Moneda,  to 
reach  in  a  few  minutes  the  ruined  monastery  of 


336  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Parral,  once  a  flourishing  centre  of  civilisation 
and  advanced  agriculture,  but  with  little  to 
show  now  but  its  locked  and  mutilated  church, 
its  broken  cloisters  and  conventual  buildings, 
its  beautiful  site  along  the  river.  We  leave  it 
behind  to  enter  the  shaded  avenue  of  the  long 
and  delightful  Alameda,  more  or  less  parallel 
with  the  river  below  and  the  city  above,  where 
one  may  wander  and  dream  at  will,  meeting  no 
one,  even  on  Sunday,  and  undisturbed  by  the 
women  who  are  washing  their  clothes  by  the 
stream.  No  Spanish  city  offers  so  perfect  a 
haunt  to  the  solitary  dreamer  and  student. 

Once  more  we  descend  from  Segovia,  this 
time  by  the  ancient  gate  of  the  south,  and 
cross  the  swift  little  Clamores  to  the  green 
slopes  with  their  clumps  of  trees  beyond.  This 
is  the  only  side  from  which  one  may  obtain  a 
fairly  complete  view  of  Segovia.  To  the  right 
one  sees  the  long  stretch  of  the  ancient  aqueduct 
with  the  snow-covered  hills  beyond  it ;  then  the 
walls  of  the  city  supported  by  their  towers  and 
clinging  to  the  rock,  half-concealed  by  the  in- 
tervening trees  ;  within,  churches  innumerable  ; 
to  the  extreme  left  on  its  sheer  height  the 
Alcazar ;  and  crowning  all  the  beautiful  soft 
golden  brown  mass  of  the  cathedral,  concen- 
trating in  finest  tincture  that  Spanish  tone  of 
colour  which  is  the  note  of  all  Segovia,  and  in 
some  degree,  indeed,  of  all  Castile. 


SEGOVIA  337 

There  is  one  day  of  the  week  when  the  dead 
city  of  Segovia  is  awakened  to  life,  not,  indeed, 
by  any  exertions  of  its  own,  but  by  invasion 
from  outside.  Early  on  Sunday  morning  varied 
family  groups  of  peasants,  some  on  foot,  some 
on  their  donkeys  or  mules,  come  climbing  up 
the  zigzag  roads  from  all  directions.  They  are, 
as  ever,  a  notable  population,  pretty  women  and 
fine  intelligent  men,  and  to  a  degree  that  is  rare 
among  the  peasants  of  modern  Spain  they  have 
preserved,  men  and  women  alike,  the  ancient 
costumes  which  alone  really  express  the  special 
and  peculiar  qualities  of  the  race.  It  is  not  the 
least  charm  of  this  dead  mediaeval  city  that  at 
the  moments  when  it  awakes  to  life  it  becomes  a 
city  of  mediaeval  peasants. 

The  peasants  have  all  set  out  for  home  again, 
as  gravely  and  quietly  as  they  came,  long  before 
evening.  Here,  on  the  slopes  above  the  Clamores, 
as  the  Sunday  afternoon  declines,  I  lie  watching 
the  city,  while  fragmentary  strains  of  music 
float  across  from  the  Paseo,  and  little  family 
groups  of  Segovians  are  scattered  among  the 
trees  or  on  the  heights.  The  lofty  and  ship-like 
city  lies  majestically  at  anchor;  its  raggedness 
and  dusty  aridity  are  harmonised  by  distance, 
and  the  setting  sun  heightens  its  rich  warm 
Castilian  tones.  It  is  the  finest  revelation  of 
Segovia's  beauty. 


XIII 

SEVILLE  IN   SPRING 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,"  exclaimed  the  great 
admiral,  Christopher  Columbus,  as  he  approached 
the  new  Indies  on  the  8th  of  October  1492, 
"  the  air  is  very  soft,  as  of  April  in  Seville, 
and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  there ! "  There  can, 
indeed,  be  no  place  where  it  is  a  greater 
pleasure  to  be  than  in  Seville  in  April,  as 
every  Spaniard  well  knows.  "  What  would 
you  do  if  you  came  in  for  a  fortune  ? "  a 
Spaniard  was  asked.  "  Give  half  to  the  poor, 
and  with  the  other  half  buy  a  house  in  Seville 
and  spend  the  spring  there,"  this  true  Spaniard 
replied.  In  summer  Seville  is  too  hot,  the 
narrow  serpentining  Sierpes — the  main  artery 
of  life  in  the  city  and  reserved  for  foot- 
passengers —  becomes  a  furnace,  although 
covered  by  awnings,  and  no  breath  of  air 
is  felt  save  in  the  great  Plaza  Nueva.  In 
winter,  indeed,  it  is  often  pleasant,  but  even 
in   Seville  it  is  sometimes  cold,  and  then  the 

388 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  339 

Spaniard  has  no  resource  but  his  great  cloak, 
which  he  folds  more  closely  across  his  breast 
and  mouth.  But  at  the  beginning  of  April 
spring  comes  to  Seville  in  a  flash  with  the 
heat  of  a  northern  summer.  The  acacias  and 
other  deciduous  trees  seem  to  burst  into  radiant 
verdure  in  a  day ;  the  orange  trees  throughout 
the  city  leap  into  blossom  and  scatter  their 
deep  perfume  everywhere ;  and  everywhere, 
too,  in  the  street  and  in  the  hair  and  bosoms 
of  the  women,  there  are  roses  and  carnations, 
the  two  preferred  flowers  of  Spain,  so  tenderly 
and  lovingly  treated  that  they  scarcely  seem 
the  mere  flowers  we  know  them  elsewhere. 

If  Barcelona  may  be  described  as  the  brain 
and  the  arm  of  Spain,  Seville  may  be  called  the 
heart  of  Spain.  Every  Spaniard  is  proud  of 
Seville  and  glad  to  go  there ;  every  woman  in 
Spain  is  happy  to  be  mistaken  for  a  Sevillian. 
To  assert  the  prominence  of  Barcelona  as  a 
centre  of  modern  Spanish  life  by  no  means 
implies  that  Seville  is  a  dead  city.  Seville  is 
even  alive  commercially,  and  from  its  wharves 
among  the  trees  sea-going  vessels  convey  abroad 
its  wines,  and  its  oil,  and  its  oranges.  With 
the  discovery  of  the  New  World  it  became  one 
of  the  great  cities  of  Europe,  and  though  it  was 
for  the  time  eclipsed  by  Cadiz,  so  far  as  trade 
is  concerned,  it  has  again  asserted  its  old  vigour. 
It  might,  indeed,  at  one  time  have  become  the 


340  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

capital  of  Spain,  had  not  political  reasons  placed 
this  in  the  centre  of  the  peninsula  when  Castile 
and  Aragon  were  united,  and  we  may  be  thank- 
ful that  the  natural  growth  and  character  of 
Seville  have  not  been  swamped  by  the  artificial 
and  cosmopolitan  elements  which  are  attracted 
to  every  capital.  Seville  has  in  many  respects 
been  peculiarly  favoured :  an  inland  city  which 
is  yet  by  its  broad  and  easily  navigable  river 
practically  a  seaport,  it  has  been  saved  alike 
from  that  excess  of  sterilising  conservatism 
liable  to  overtake  cities  outside  the  great 
routes  of  communication,  and  from  that  excess 
of  restless  and  featureless  variety  which  tends 
to  mark  a  busy  seaport.  Even  the  extreme 
heat  from  which  Seville  sufi'ers  in  summer  has 
helped  to  preserve  its  character  as  a  typical 
southern  city,  while  at  the  same  time,  doubtless, 
it  has  held  aloof  those  foreign  crowds  whose 
presence  might  blur  the  city's  gracious  aspects. 

The  Sevillians  may  be  said  to  be  the 
Parisians  of  Spain.  They  possess  a  certain 
well -poised  gaiety, — alegria,  as  they  them- 
selves call  it, — a  fine  sense  of  temperance  and 
harmony.  They  have  that  wit  which  is 
the  sign  of  an  alert  intelligence ;  they  are 
sufficient  to  themselves,  and  they  are  a  people 
of  artists.  In  most  of  these  respects  they  diff'er 
from  their  fellow-countrymen  in  temperament. 
Spaniards    generally    are    a    grave    and    silent 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  341 

people,  tending  to  run  to  extremes,  by  no 
means  artists,  with  fine  moral  qualities  indeed, 
but,  while  very  honest,  also,  it  must  be  said, 
sometimes  lacking  in  quick  intelligence.  The 
Sevillians,  and  especially  the  women  of  Seville, 
possess  a  quality  which,  Ijke  the  ancient 
Romans,  the  Spaniards  call  "  salt,"  a  sapid 
and  antiseptic  quality  of  bright  intelligence 
which  permeates  all  that  they  are  and  all  that 
they  do.  They  do  nothing  quite  in  the  same 
way  as  other  people,  and  are  thus  placed, 
perhaps  a  little  consciously,  apart  from  other 
people.  The  meanest  girl  of  the  people  in 
Seville  has  an  easy  consciousness  and  pride 
in  this  superiority,  and  in  every  movement 
shows  a  gracious  dignity  which  we  mostly 
seek  in  vain  elsewhere,  even  in  the  cities  that 
lie  nearest.^  If  we  go  to  Cordova  we  feel  that 
we  are  among  a  people  from  whom  the  tide 
of  life  has  retired,  and  who  have  proudly  shut 
themselves  up  within  their  palatial  and  beauti- 
fully various  patios.  If  we  go  to  Granada 
we  find  ourselves  among  a  busy  bourgeois  set 
of  small  tradesmen.     The  distinction  of  Seville 

^  It  is  this  spirit  of  Seville  which  has  given  the  real  impress  to 
the  most  beautiful  Spanish  dances.  Many  of  these  dances,  while 
originally  of  Spanish  origin,  have  returned  to  Spain  \vith  renewed 
vigour  from  America.  But  before  they  are  accepted  they  must  pass 
through  Seville.  Seville,  as  Estebanez  Calderon  has  said  in  his 
Escenas  Andnluzas,  is  the  workshop  in  which  they  are  melted, 
modified,  and  recomposed,  purged  of  any  sediment  of  exaggeration, 
impudence,  and  vulgarity  they  may  have  brought  from  over  sea. 


342  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

is  at  once  aristocratic  and  democratic.  We 
feel  here  tlie  presence  of  an  ancient  civilisation 
that  has  been  matured  through  many  genera- 
tions and  has  penetrated  the  whole  people. 
Everything  at  Seville  bears  the  touch  of  a 
finely  tempered  race,  and  the  imprint  is  always 
gracious,  noble,  harmonious.  We  see  this  indi- 
cated even  in  the  varied  colouring  of  the  houses. 
Sevillian  houses,  while  very  charming  inside, 
are  very  simple  outside,  and  it  is  usual  to  give 
them  a  coloured  wash  according  to  the  taste 
of  the  owner.  At  Granada,  where  the  same 
custom  prevails,  the  colouring  is  often  harsh, 
with  a  preference  for  an  unpleasant  brown,  but 
at  Seville  an  instinctive  feeling  for  harmony 
seems  everywhere  to  have  presided  over  its 
arrangement.  Again,  Spain  is  a  land  where 
wrought  iron  has  always  been  largely  used. 
The  iron  rejas  or  gratings  outside  the  windows, 
the  iron  gates  of  the  patios  or  courtyards,  the 
great  iron  screens  enclosing  the  chapels  in  the 
churches,  have  everywhere  offered  scope  for  the 
development  of  skill  in  such  work,  but  nowhere 
in  Spain  is  the  ironwork  so  bold  and  yet  so 
felicitous  as  in  Seville.  And  the  same  qualities 
we  find  in  the  highest  degree  in  the  people 
themselves,  more  especially  in  the  women.  The 
men  and  women  whom  Seville  has  produced, 
or  whose  names  have  been  associated  with  the 
city,  unlike  as   they  may  be,  seem  to  mingle 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  343 

harmoniously  in  this  Andalusian  atmosphere. 
From  the  hotel  windows  one  may  look  out  on 
one  side  at  the  house  where  St.  Theresa  lived, 
and  on  the  other  at  the  spot  where  legend 
places  the  famous  statue  of  Don  Juan's  com- 
mander. In  Seville  we  think,  on  the  one  hand, 
of  Isidoro,  the  patron  of  the  city,  the  ifirst 
saint,  philosopher,  and  scholar  of  his  day ; 
of  Velazquez,  the  supreme  artist;  of  Murillo, 
most  typical  of  Sevillians ;  of  St.  Theresa,  the 
greatest  of  women  saints ;  and  on  the  other 
hand  we  think  of  Mateo  Aleman,  the  creator 
of  the  picaresque  Guzman  de  Alfarache,  of 
Beaumarchais's  and  Mozart's  Figaro,  of  M^ri- 
m^e's  and  Bizet's  Carmen,  and  of  a  still  more 
immortal  type,  the  Don  Juan  Tenorio  of 
Tirso    de    Molina.^      The    artist   in    every   field 

'  The  Don  Juan  legend,  which  is  comparable  in  importance  to  that 
of  Faust,  and  has  penetrated  European  literature,  is  founded  on  El 
Burlador  de  Sevilla,  the  play  written  by  the  great  Spanish  dramatist 
Tirso  de  Molina  (who  was  a  priest,  really  named  Gabriel  Tellez)  in 
1630.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  play  was  based  on 
any  real  event.  The  Tenorio  family  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  in 
Andalusia,  but  no  Don  Juan  Tenorio  corresponding  to  the  story  is 
known.  The  legend  has  grown  up  that  the  real  hero  was  a  certain 
Don  Miguel  de  Maftara  of  Seville,  whose  exploits  had  a  faint  resem- 
blance to  Don  Juan's.  Maurice  Barres,  for  instance,  in  his  Visite  d 
Don  Juan  solemnly  accepts  this  legend.  But  Don  Miguel  de  Manara 
was  only  four  years  old  when  Tirso  wrote  his  play.  It  was  the 
excellence  of  the  play  that  led  to  the  belief  that  it  was  founded  on 
fact.  "The  proud  and  impulsive  character  of  the  race,"  Reynier 
remarks,  "  was  so  well  recognised  in  Don  Juan  that  the  fiction  was 
instinctively  made  a  reality."  Possibly,  as  Reynier  sugi'csts,  the 
austere  monk  and  master  in  theology  of  the  University  of  Alcala,  who 
wrote  the  play,  was  here  expressing  his  personal  opinion  concerning 


344  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

has  always  found  at  Seville  a  finely  fibred  and 
finely  tempered  human  type,  the  like  of  which 
elsewhere  in  Europe  is  mostly  sought  in  vain. 
Saints  or  sinners,  grave  or  gay,  there  is  for 
the  most  part  a  certain  heroic  and  noble 
distinction  about  the  great  figures  of  Seville ; 
the  saints  are  gay  and  the  sinners  are  grave ; 
they  have  alike  drunk  extremely  of  the  cup  of 
life  and — in  the  spiritual  world  also  it  is  true 
— les  extremes  se  touchent.  In  that  indeed 
they  are  true  Spaniards ;  but  they  preserve  at 
the  same  time  a  fine  measure  and  distinction 
in  their  way  of  taking  life,  and  in  that  they 
are  true  Sevillians. 

It  is  in  the  most  perfect  season  of  spring 
that  the  Sevillians  have  wisely  chosen  to  con- 
centrate their  chief  festivals.  The  Carnival  is 
comparatively  disregarded  here ;  it  is  held  with 
much  more  vigour  and  animation  in  some  of 
the  other  large  Andalusian  cities  like  Cadiz  and 
Malaga.  At  Seville  the  great  festival  is  that 
in  which  all  the  chief  splendours  of  the  Church 
are  displayed,  at  Easter  and  the  preceding  days 

the  popular  doctrine  of  the  inexhaustible  mercy  of  God,  the  favourite 
Spanish  idea  that  there  is  no  sin  that  cannot  be  pardoned  ;  the  old 
master  of  theology  wished  to  show  in  his  drama  that  men  go  to  hell 
by  the  road  of  vain  hope  as  well  as  by  the  road  of  despair.  (Many 
studies  of  the  Don  Juan  legend  have  been  written.  See,  e.g.,  Farinelli, 
"Cuatro  Palabras  sobre  Don  Jaan,"  Homenaje  a  Menendez  y  Pelayo, 
vol.  i.  p.  205;  G.  Reynier,  "Les  Origines  de  la  L^gende  de  Don 
Juan,"  Revue  de  Paris,  May  15,  1906  ;  and  the  exhaustive  work  by 
G.  de  B6votte,  La  L6gende  de  Don  Juan,  1907.) 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  345 

of  Holy  Week ;  the  first  and  best  bull-fights  of 
the  year  take  place  at  this  season ;  and  the 
Feria,  the  great  outdoor  festival,  unique  even 
in  Spain,  in  which  Sevillians  of  every  class  take 
an  active  part,  is  held  in  the  middle  of  April. 

The  religious  processions  bring  home  to  the 
spectator  much  more  vividly  even  than  the 
ceremonies  in  the  church  the  genuinely  religious 
instincts  of  the  people.  The  fervour  and  reality 
of  the  emotions  they  call  out  is  unquestionable. 
The  clergy  play  no  part  in  these  processions  ;  it 
is  the  spontaneous  and  active  devotion  of  the 
people  themselves  that  maintains  and  carries 
them  out  on  the  lines  of  immemorial  tradition. 

The  anti-clerical  progressive  movement  re- 
presented in  literature  by  Galdos,  and  embodied 
a  few  years  ago  in  his  play  Electra,  seems  very 
far  away  when  the  colossal  Virgins,  sometimes 
gracious  and  beautiful  figures,  are  carried  in 
procession  among  the  bare-headed  crowds  of 
Seville.  We  have,  indeed,  to  remember  that  here 
there  is  no  active  propaganda  of  anti-religious 
and  progressive  views,  although  a  considerable 
amount  of  quiet  scepticism.  At  Granada  and 
some  other  towns  the  street  processions  are  now 
omitted  on  one  pretext  or  another,  for  fear  lest 
disturbances  should  occur.  It  may  well  be  that 
every  year  now  will  bring  some  further  shrinking 
in  the  imposing  magnitude  of  these  spectacles, 
and  that,  like  the  picturesque  costumes  of  the 


346  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

people,  they  will  tend  slowly  to  disappear  from 
the  streets.  The  growing  indifference  or  hostility 
of  one  section  of  the  population  seems  to  render 
this  course  of  events  inevitable.  But  we  cannot 
well  imagine  the  religious  element  in  the  Spanish 
people  dying  out.  It  is  too  deeply  engrained  in 
the  very  fibre  of  the  race.  If  Catholicism  had 
no  existence  in  Spain  one  feels  that  Spaniards 
would  invent  it.  Mysticism,  even  monasticism, 
is  part  of  their  very  temperament,  a  temperament 
at  once  so  ardent  and  sensuous,  so  ascetic  and 
unflinching.  Let  the  shrewd  Sancho  Panza  in 
the  Spanish  temperament  mock  as  he  wiU,  Don 
Quixote  will  still  pursue  the  inspirations  of  his 
own  imagination.  The  enthusiasm  aroused  by 
Electra  cannot  make  us  forget  that  St.  Dominic 
and  St.  Theresa,  even  Loyola  himself,  whose 
followers  are  now  arousing  such  antagonism  in 
the  land,  were  Spaniards,  and  very  typical 
Spaniards.  One  may  recall  that  it  was  in  Spain 
that  the  celibacy  of  the  secular  clergy  was  first 
established,  a  century  before  it  was  adopted 
elsewhere,  and  that  the  north-west  of  Spain  in 
the  early  Christian  centuries  rivalled  even 
Palestine  in  the  number  of  its  saints  and  its 
sanctuaries.  And  to-day  it  is  difiicult  not  to 
feel  that  Spain  still  naturally  produces  all  the 
genuinely  and  naturally  monastic  types  of  men — ■ 
from  the  alert,  courteous,  supple  persons,  with  an 
inborn  instinct  for  ceremonial  and  for  intrigue, 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  347 

to  those  mystical,  simple  -  minded,  sometimes 
perhaps  rather  dull-witted  persons  who  are  often 
the  stuflf  out  of  which  saints  are  made.  I  recall 
a  brown-frocked  friar  of  the  latter  type  I  once 
met  in  the  train,  near  Cordova — a  huge  man,  with 
bushy  black  beard,  full,  rather  sleepy  dark  eyes, 
knotted  brown  hands,  big  bare  feet  in  his  sandals, 
very  slow  of  speech,  yet  not  unintelligent  when 
he  began  to  speak,  and  though  very  robust,  with 
no  suggestion  of  keen  appetites  or  sensual 
passions ;  I  have  never  come  across  a  man  who 
reminded  me  so  much  of  a  tree,  full,  as  it  were, 
of  the  vegetative  sap  of  some  vigorous  oak. 

On  the  Saturday  before  Easter  Sunday  the 
ceremonies  of  Holy  Week  may  be  said  to  come 
to  an  end,  not  without  a  feeling  of  relief  on  the 
part  of  the  visitor.  At  10  o'clock  on  that  morn- 
ing the  veil  of  the  temple  is  rent  in  twain,  in 
other  words,  the  vast  purple  curtain  which  has 
been  hanging  in  front  of  the  high  altar  almost 
from  the  vaulting  is  swiftly  drawn  away ;  the 
signal  is  thus  given  for  the  bells  all  over  the  city 
to  ring  out  joyously,  while  the  people  shout, 
guns  are  fired,  and  vehicular  traffic,  suspended 
during  Holy  Week,  is  resumed.  On  Sunday 
morning  the  women,  who  have  all  been  dressed 
in  black,  with  black  mantillas,  now  appear  in 
white  lace  mantillas  and  costumes  predominantly 
white.  In  the  afternoon  a  considerable  section 
of  the  population,  including  some  of   its  most 


348  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

characteristically  Sevillian  elements  (also,  it  must 
be  added,  a  large  proportion  of  the  British  and 
American  visitors,  for  it  is  only  here  their 
presence  becomes  obtrusive),  are  finding  their 
way  to  the  Plaza  de  Toros  to  witness  the  first 
bull-fight  of  the  year. 

It  may  seem  a  long  way  from  the  cathedral 
to  the  bull-ring.  In  Seville  one  feels  that  it  is 
not  so.  The  Giralda,  the  cathedral  tower,  is 
the  one  outside  object  that  we  see  towering  above 
the  walls  into  the  cloudless  sky  as  we  sit  in 
the  ring,  and  it  introduces  no  clash  of  discord. 
When  the  toreadors  enter, — grave,  lithe,  hand- 
some men,  in  their  varied  and  beautiful  costume, 
— and  walk  with  hieratic  grace  and  dignity  of 
carriage  to  salute  the  president  in  his  box,  we 
feel  at  once  that  we  are  still  in  presence  of 
the  same  spirit — in  a  slightly  dififerent  form — 
which  has  dominated  the  proceedings  of  the 
whole  week.  One  recognises  afresh  that  funda- 
mental harmony  in  apparent  opposites,  which, 
though  part  of  the  Spanish  temperament 
generally,  may  be  said  to  reach  its  finest  and 
deepest  embodiment  in  the  atmosphere  of  Seville. 
Gorgeous  ceremony,  elaborate  ritual,  solemnly 
accepted,  we  are  just  as  much  in  the  presence  of 
here,  as  when  we  witnessed  the  Archbishop  con- 
secrating the  holy  oil  or  washing  the  feet  of  the 
thirteen  old  men.  The  whole  process  by  which 
the  death  of  the  bull  is  compassed  is  nothing  but 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  349 

an  elaborate  ritual,  the  detail  of  which  the 
stranger  is  altogether  unable  to  appreciate.^  In 
the  church  the  ceremonies  of  every  divine  office 
gain  their  solemnity  by  association  with  the 
highest  conceptions  of  the  Christian  faith  ;  in  the 
Plaza  the  sense  of  solemnity  is  gained  by  the 
possible  imminence  of  death.  But  in  both 
cases,  ceremony,  and  a  poignantly  emotional 
background,  furnish  the  deepest  element  of 
fascination.  The  bull  -  fight  is  Spanish,  and 
appeals  to  Spaniards,  quite  as  much  because  it 
is  a  sacred  ritual  as  because  it  is  a  sport. 

As  a  sport  many  hard  things  have  been  said 
about  it,  and  not  without  justice.  In  Spain 
itself  only  a  section  of  the  public  cares  for  bull- 
fights ;  very  many  Spaniards  of  all  classes  do  not 
go,  and  do  not  like  it ;  the  party  of  religion  and 
the  party  of  progress  are  equally  opposed  to  it. 
Certainly  it  is  the  national  sport  of  Spain,  just 
as  horse -racing  and  betting  constitute  the 
national  sport  of  England ;  in  both  cases  alike 
we  must  not  identify  the  whole  nation  with  the 
national  sport.  Apart  from  its  repulsive  ele- 
ments— which  are  as  objectionable  to  many 
Spaniards  as  to  the  stranger — the  bull-fight  is  a 
fascinating  exhibition  of  skill,  and  since  the 
contest  with   the   bull    is  very  rapid,   and  the 

^  Some  common  misconceptions  are  corrected  in  an  article  by 
Laurent  Tailhade,  "Toros  de  Mnerte,"  Mcrcure  de  France,  June  16, 
1907. 


350  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

animal's  death  swift  and  certain,  it  must  be  said 
that  if  sport  is  to  be  defended  at  all,  this  kind  of 
sport  compares  favourably  with  fox-hunting  or 
pheasant -shooting.^  The  element  of  risk  also, 
the  fact  that  the  would-be  slayer  may  himself  be 
slain,  adds  an  element  of  dignity  which  is  wanting 
in  nearly  every  other  form  of  European  sport. 
At  the  same  time  the  bull-fight,  reminiscent  as 
it  is  of  the  feelings  and  habits  of  Roman  times 
(though  it  is  not  actually  a  direct  Roman 
survival),^  is  an  anachronism  under  the  conditions 
of  modern  civilisation.  The  continued  vitality 
of  such  a  spectacle,  though  rooted  in  the  national 
temperament  on  more  than  one  side,  witnesses  to 
the  defects  of  the  fine  qualities  of  the  Spanish 
character,  to  a  certain  hardness  of  fibre,  a  certain 
cruelty,  if  indifference  to  what  is  regarded  as 
necessary  pain,  in  oneself  as  well  as  in  others, 
can  properly  be  called  cruelty.^ 

^  See,  e.g.,  an  article  by  an  English  sportsman,  Basil  Tozer,  "  The 
Abuse  of  Sport,"  Fortnightly  Review,  October  1906. 

^  The  bull-fight  was  established  in  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  century, 
and  has  been  traced  to  Moorish  influence.  "The  bulls  may  have 
come  from  Africa,"  Ulick  Burke  observes,  "the  cavaliers  may  have 
had  their  origin  in  Damascus  ;  but  the  savage  solemnity,  the  orderly 
excitement,  the  whole  form  and  feeling  of  the  modern  spectacle,  are 
the  heritage  of  Imperial  Rome." 

^  These  aspects  of  bull-fights  were  very  temperately  discussed  by 
Valera  in  one  of  the  last  volumes  of  his  essays.  While  praising  the 
bull-fight,  and  realising  the  advantages  of  possessing  such  fine  types 
of  harmonious  proportion  as  the  torero  presents — in  opposition  to  the 
wretched  and  ugly  jockey  type — Valera  still  concluded  with  saying 
that  the  spectacle  of  the  disembowelled  horses  is  extremely  repugnant, 
and  that  he  preferred   the   Portuguese   bull-fight,  from  which   this 


SEVILLE  IN  SPRING  351 

In  the  middle  of  April  the  climax  of  the 
spring  festival  in  Seville  is  reached  during  the 
Feria.  Thousands  arrive  from  Madrid  and  other 
parts  of  Spain  to  take  part  in  or  to  witness  this 
great  picnic,  and  those  who  come  late  have  to 
sleep  where  they  can,  on  dining -tables  or  in 
corridors,  for  all  rooms  have  been  engaged.  The 
Feria  lasts  three  days,  but  for  many  weeks 
beforehand  preparations  have  been  going  on  in 
the  Prado  de  San  Sebastian,  an  open  space  just 
outside  the  city,  close  to  its  finest  parks  and 
promenades,  and  appropriately  named  after  a  tor- 
tured martyr,  for  this  was  once  the  Quemadero, 
where  the  Inquisition  burnt  heretics.  Here  are 
erected  rows  of  wooden  buildings,  casetas  or 
little  houses,  consisting  mainly  of  one  room — 
usually  furnished  chiefly  with  chairs,  a  piano, 
and  flowers — entirely  open  to  view  on  the  front 
side.  Hither  during  the  afternoon  the  people  of 
Seville  drive  out  in  their  carriages,  each  family 
proceeding  to  its  own  caseta.  As  evening  comes 
on  the  sound  of  castanets  and  guitars  begins  to 
be  heard  in  all  directions,  and  ladies  and  children 
in  nearly  every  caseta  are  seen  dancing  the 
gracious  Sevillian  seguidilla,  while  the  paths  are 
crowded  with  onlookers.^     This  is  the  centre  of 

element  is  absent,  as  indeed  it  shortly  seems  likely  to  be  from  the 
Spanish  bull-fight  also,  in  which  it  has  never  been  really  essential. 

^  I  have  read  an  account  of  this  scene  by  a  lady  who  described  it 
as  a  wearisome  and  spiritless  routine.  This  it  certainly  is  not,  though 
there  is  a  complete  absence  of  boisterous  hilarity.     The  same  writer 


352  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

the  Feria,  and  hither  the  people  flock  ;  the  broad 
avenues  radiating  in  various  directions — each 
softly  lit  up  by  its  thousands  of  Chinese  lanterns, 
a  different  scheme  of  colour  prevailing  in  each 
avenue,  and  fragrant  with  the  blossoming  orange 
trees — are  almost  deserted,  though  delightful  as 
a  scene  from  the  Arabian  Nights. 

Towards  midnight  the  lights  have  begun  to 
fail,  and  the  Sevillians  are  quietly  returning 
home.  One  hastens  to  walk  away  in  the 
silence,  under  the  wonderful  southern  sky,  lest 
one  should  spoil  the  perfect  sensation  of  this 
scene  of  gracious  and  sustained  alegria,  that 
quality  which  gives,  sometimes  a  little  proudly 
and  self-consciously,  so  fine  a  distinction  to 
the  Sevillian.  Yet  as  one  recalls  the  impres- 
sions of  Holy  Week,  of  the  whole  of  this  spring 
festival,  one  feels  that  there  has  really  been 
no  break.  The  fair,  like  the  bull -fight,  has 
been  no  orgy  in  which  the  Sevillian  seeks  to 
drown  and  compensate  the  penances  of  Lent. 
"  There  is  something  traditional  and  sacred 
about  these  Sevillian  holidays,"  a  Spaniard 
casually  remarks.  "Something  sacred" — even 
these  domestic  spring  outings  have  not  taken 
us  beyond  the  region  of  ceremonial ;  even  here 
we  are  in  presence  of  an  ostentatious  though 

regretfully  exclaimed  that  there  was  uot  one  white  cap,  and  no  sabots  ! 
That  any  one  could  desire  an  Andalusian  woman  to  exchange  so  perfect 
a  head-dress  as  the  mantilla  for  a  stiff,  expressionless  cap,  or  to  encase 
her  beautiful  feet  in  thick  wooden  clogs,  is  indeed  strange. 


SEVILLE   IN   SPRING  353 

easy  ritual ;  a  holiday  is  here  really  a  holy  day. 
We  are  far  away  from  those  northern  lands, 
whether  Britain  or  Russia,  where  excesses 
of  strenuous  effort  are  followed  by  excesses  of 
relaxing  orgy.  On  Sundays  and  great  moral 
occasions  we  people  of  northern  race  exhibit  a 
tense  and  rigid  virtue,  like  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
heroes,  draw  ourselves  up  to  our  full  height, 
and  then,  in  the  blessed  consciousness  of  that 
painful  effort,  we  feel  free  to  collapse  in  a 
heap.  Here  people  neither  hold  themselves 
stiffly  at  full  moral  height  nor  awkwardly 
collapse.  During  Holy  Week,  in  the  Church 
ceremonies,  one  might  note  the  vestmented 
dignitaries  talking  and  smiling  even  beneath 
the  Archbishop's  eyes ;  and  once,  at  a  side  altar, 
a  kneeling  young  woman,  whom  I  had  supposed 
lost  in  devotion,  slowly  lifted  and  critically 
examined  the  lace  border  of  the  white  altar- 
cloth  ;  it  was  typical  of  the  Spaniard's  easy 
familiarity  with  divine  things.^  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  at  the  Feria  it  was  impossible  to 
detect  the  faintest  sign  of  drunkenness  or  the 
slightest  impulse  to  rowdiness  or  indecorum ; 
strenuous  tension  may  be  absent  from  the 
Sevillian    temperament,    but    so    also    is    any 

^  In  La  Triinina,  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan,  describing  how  the  cigarreras 
in  the  Galician  tobacco-factory  placed  their  shawls,  umbrellas,  and 
dinners  on  the  altar,  adds  :  "  But  this  kind  of  familiarity  revealed  no 
lack  of  respect  for  the  holy  altar,  before  which  not  one  passed  without 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  a  genuflexion." 

2  A 


354  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

instinct  or  habit  of  vulgarity.  It  would  be 
fruitless  to  discuss  which  of  these  two  methods 
of  facing  the  problems  of  life  is  the  more  worthy 
of  admiration.  We  may  at  least  be  thankful 
that,  whatever  men  may  elsewhere  do  or  leave 
undone,  this  "  something  traditional  and  sacred" 
is  still  preserved  in  Seville. 


XIV 

SEVILLE   CATHEDRAL 

The  largest  of  all  Gothic  churches,  and  indeed, 
after  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  the  largest  church 
in  Christendom,  Seville  Cathedral  during  recent 
years  has  practically  been  closed.  In  1888, 
as  the  result  of  a  series  of  earthquake  shocks, 
the  dome  fell  in  with  a  mighty  crash,  every 
precious  object  below,  from  the  east  end  of 
the  choir  to  the  screen  of  the  capilla  mayor 
or  high  altar,  being  inevitably  destroyed,  and 
the  pavement  was  covered  by  a  vast  mass  of 
confused  masonry.  On  a  former  visit  to  Seville 
I  had  been  unable  to  obtain  any  conception  of 
the  interior,  for  although  one  could  penetrate 
at  certain  points,  the  way  was  blocked  in  every 
direction,  and  no  vista  left  open.  Now,  the 
cathedral  has  been  really  opened ;  the  cere- 
monies of  Holy  Week  are  no  longer  robbed 
of  their  splendour,  and  the  remains  of  Columbus 
have  found  a  last  resting-place  in  the  city  which 
has  the  best  right  to  claim  them.     Fortunately 

355 


356  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

it  is  possible  to  compliment  the  Sevillians  on 
their  skill  in  church  restoration.  Whatever 
views  one  may  hold  on  restoration,  here 
certainly  was  a  case  where  every  one  must 
admit  its  necessity,  and  this  inevitable  restora- 
tion seems  to  have  been  accomplished  in  the 
most  judicious  manner  possible.  The  fine  taste 
of  the  Sevillians,  and  the  conservatism  natural 
to  all  Spaniards,  have  here  at  all  events  been 
happily  united ;  nothing  has  been  done  that 
was  not  absolutely  necessary  to  preserve  the 
harmony  of  the  edifice,  and  no  foolish  attempt 
has  been  made  either  to  extend  the  operations 
beyond  the  field  of  damage,  or  to  do  anything 
better  than  the  original  builders.  Seville 
Cathedral  still  remains  to  us  a  focus  of  the 
religious  spirit  of  Spain,  a  great  vessel  full  of 
mystery  and  romance. 

It  is  more  than  five  hundred  years  since 
Seville  Cathedral  was  planned.  In  1401  the 
chapter  resolved  to  build  a  basilica  "  so 
magnificent  that  coming  ages  should  call  them 
mad  for  attempting  it."  The  cathedral  was 
designed  by  foreign  architects,  possibly  German, 
who  took  a  century  to  complete  the  work, 
though  externally  some  of  the  portals  are  not 
completed  even  yet.  In  some  respects  one 
may  compare  it  with  another  Gothic  church, 
the  cathedral  of  Cologne.  Each  was  meant 
to   be   stupendous,    and    each    represented    an 


SEVILLE  CATHEDRAL        357 

essentially  foreign  idea,  for  alike  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine  and  in  Andalusia,  though  not 
everywhere  in  Germany  nor  everywhere  in 
Spain,  Gothic  architecture  is  an  exotic  art.  It 
is  this  exotic  character  which  enabled  both 
churches  to  preserve  their  unity  of  design,  and 
in  the  case  of  Cologne  even  of  detail,  over  a 
very  long  period  of  construction,  unaffected  by 
the  developments  which  always  modify  every 
living  form  of  architecture  in  its  own  home. 
But  with  these  points  of  resemblance  there  could 
not  be  a  greater  contrast.  Cologne  Cathedral, 
though  in  design  and  on  paper  it  seems  to  be 
one  of  the  most  perfect  and  impressive  works  of 
man,  is  in  reality  to  an  extreme  degree  artificial, 
cold,  uninspiring,  dead.  One  feels  that  in  form 
and  in  spirit  it  is  utterly  alien  to  the  men  of 
the  Rhine,  and  that  they  have  never  even 
attempted  to  make  it  live.  Catholicism  in 
Germany  has  itself  a  distinctly  Protestant 
character,  and  Cologne  Cathedral,  with  its 
French  nobility  and  harmonious  logic,  is  even 
more  foreign  to  the  Rhine  than  the  Renaissance 
temple  of  St.  Paul's  is  to  foggy  Protestant 
London.  But  SeviUe  Cathedral  is  alive,  after 
half  a  millennium  alive  with  a  full  exuberance 
of  life  which,  it  seems  to  me,  can  be  found  in 
no  other  great  church.  To  make  the  vast 
expanse  of  St.  Peter's  alive  with  worship 
would  be  beyond  human  faculty.      And  if  we 


358  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

turn  to  a  great  French  and  Gothic  church,  like 
Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  again  we  feel  the  lack  of 
life.  Cologne  and  St.  Peter's  can  never  have 
been  alive  ;  at  Notre  Dame  the  life  has  departed. 
Once  it  may  have  been  filled  with  splendid 
ritual.  Now  it  is  shrunken  and  cold.  Notre 
Dame  has  been  swept  bare  by  the  Revolution, 
and  has  never  quite  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  that  storm ;  the  very  orderliness,  elegance, 
and  comfort  of  the  worship  now  carried  on 
there  are  an  incongruity,  and  indicate  an 
attenuation  of  the  true  spirit  of  worship.  But 
Seville  Cathedral  is  still  alive  ;  if  less  so  than 
once  it  was,  the  difference  is  one  which  in  our 
time  cannot  be  perceived. 

The  arrangement  of  a  typical  large  Spanish 
church,  which  we  find  at  Seville  in  its  completely 
developed  form,  is  unlike  that  we  are  familiar 
with  in  England  and  France.  The  northern 
Gothic  church  is  shaped  like  a  cross,  the  eastern 
arm  of  which  is  the  most  sacred,  most  filled 
with  light,  most  exquisitely  decorated.  All  the 
active  functions  of  the  church  are  concentrated 
into  the  eastern  end  ;  here  is  at  once  the  stage 
and  the  orchestra  of  that  great  sacred  drama 
which  every  religious  office,  and  above  all  the 
Mass,  essentially  is.  The  mystery  and  solemnity 
of  divine  service  is  thus  secured  by  distance, 
by  placing  the  sacred  ceremonial  in  a  remote 
blaze   of  light,  as   far  away   as   possible   from 


SEVILLE   CATHEDRAL         359 

the  worshippers  in  the  body  of  the  church. 
The  worshippers  are  scattered  and  isolated,  in 
comparative  gloom,  throughout  the  building, 
an  arrangement  which  probably  has  its  source 
in  the  northerner's  love  of  solitude.  Very 
different  is  the  arrangement  in  a  cathedral 
like  that  of  Seville.  Here  the  whole  object 
of  the  very  construction  of  the  church  is  to 
attain  that  filling  of  the  edifice  with  active 
worship  which  is  in  fact  so  perfectly  attained. 
The  building  is  strictly  of  a  broad,  oblong 
shape,  without  projecting  transepts,  without 
more  than  a  rudimentary  apse.  The  choir  is 
almost  in  the  centre  of  the  church,  slightly  to 
the  west,  and  the  capilla  mayor  containing 
the  high  altar  is  slightly  to  the  east.  In  the 
early  days  of  the  Christian  Church  the  choir 
was  enclosed  in  the  nave,  though  the  enclosure 
was  not  usually  very  high,  and  the  Spanish 
custom  (though  this  is  not  Street's  opinion) 
may  possibly  be  a  survival  of  the  primitive 
practice ;  we  may  see  a  somewhat  similar 
arrangement,  though  here  of  modern  introduc- 
tion, in  Westminster  Abbey.  Between  the 
choir  and  the  capilla  mayor  is  a  square  space, 
underneath  the  dome,  which  can  be  enclosed 
as  required,  and  in  which  some  of  the  most 
characteristic  ceremonies  take  place,  such  as 
the  consecration  of  the  holy  oil  and  the  washing 
of  feet.      Choir  and  capilla  mayor   are   alike 


360  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

massively  enclosed,  and  constitute  a  church 
within  a  church.  Thus  the  choral  part  of  the 
service  is  completely  separated  from  the  cere- 
monial function,  from  which  it  is  naturally 
distinct,  and  yet  the  whole  actively  dramatic 
movement  of  the  service  takes  place  in  the 
centre  of  the  edifice.  The  sense  of  mystery  is 
here  attained,  not  by  distance,  but  by  enclosure 
and  height,  and  at  the  same  time  the  conditions 
are  secured  for  filling  the  vast  edifice  with 
the  maximum  efi'ect  of  worship.  Such  an 
arrangement  perfectly  fits  this  cathedral  for 
the  uses  of  Spanish  ritual ;  the  noble  simplicity 
of  the  building  in  its  elements  of  construction, 
and  the  boldly  flowing  rhetoric  of  its  decoration, 
lend  themselves  admirably  to  that  mysteriously 
grandiose  and  romantic  quality  which  is  the 
note  of  these  functions,  and  expresses  itself  in 
every  detail  and  every  various  appeal  to  the 
senses. 

As  the  great  festivals  of  the  year  come  round 
the  whole  of  this  vast  edifice  is  not  too  vast  for 
its  part  in  the  functions ;  it  seems  to  live,  to 
change  perpetually  with  the  changes  in  the  rich 
and  varied  atmosphere  that  fills  it,  the  one 
great  and  conspicuous  object  in  this  city  built 
on  a  plain,  seated  broadly  and  solidly  in  the 
midst  of  the  city,  as  the  beauties  of  Seville  know 
how  to  seat  themselves,  alert  and  robust  under 
the  semblance  of  languor. 


SEVILLE  CATHEDRAL        361 

The  elements  that  go  to  make  up  the  charm 
of  this  building  are  highly  complex,  even  if  we 
disregard  the  worship  and  the  worshippers  it  is 
so  admirably  fitted  for.  I  have  spent  many 
hours — morning,  afternoon,  and  night — during 
several  weeks  within  its  walls,  and  at  the  end 
it  seemed  as  elusively  delightful,  as  full  of  novel 
surprises,  as  at  the  first.  One  learns  to  detect, 
however,  certain  of  the  elements  of  the  place's 
charm.  It  is  perfectly  lighted ;  the  light  is  of 
medium  intensity,  midway  between  the  clearness 
of  a  northern  cathedral,  which  detracts  from  the 
sense  of  mystery,  and  the  extreme  and  sombre 
gloom  of  a  typically  southern  cathedral  like 
Barcelona  or  Perpignan,  where  the  obscurity, 
however  impressive  it  may  be,  renders  all  details 
invisible.  The  prevailingly  medium  light  in 
this  vast  edifice  is  really  made  up  of  a  number 
of  kinds  of  light  from  many  sources,  separately 
of  a  wide  range  of  intensity,  and  the  atmosphere 
itself  thus  becomes  here  a  visible  component 
in  the  structural  harmony  of  the  place.  Its 
varieties  of  atmospherical  efi'ect,  its  long  vistas 
of  light,  are  produced  by  various  planes  of  air 
coming  from  the  doors  in  every  direction,  from 
the  veiled  and  unveiled  stained  windows  at 
different  angles  and  at  different  heights,  never 
too  dazzling  to  neutralise  altogether  the  illumina- 
tion of  candles  and  lamps. 

While  all  the  main    constructional    features 


362  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

of  the  building  are  bold  and  harmoniously 
planned  and  proportioned,  it  has  to  be  confessed 
that  Seville  Cathedral  is  not,  and  as  an  exotic 
phenomenon  could  not  be,  a  model  of  exquisite 
Gothic  workmanship  in  its  decorative  details, 
either  internally  or  externally.  Any  one  who 
comes  fresh  to  Seville  from  those  great  Gothic 
buildings  which  arose  among  a  people  with  a 
genius  for  architecture,  whether  in  Amiens  and 
Chartres,  or  in  Barcelona  and  Tarragona,  may 
easily  find  cause  for  offence  here.  But  where 
the  builders  have  fallen  short  in  delicate  archi- 
tectural sense,  they  have  made  up  in  their  fine 
artistic  felicity,  in  their  instinct  for  bold  and 
noble  proportion ;  and  in  the  end  even  the 
somewhat  coarse,  peculiar,  or  meaningless  decora- 
tive detail  in  the  stone,  which  is,  indeed,  always 
restrained  and  never  obtrusive,  takes  its  place 
as  an  element  in  the  whole  effect. 

Apart  from  architecture  proper,  the  decorative 
feeling  becomes  right  at  once.  Here,  for  instance, 
we  see  everywhere  the  bold  and  splendid  iron 
screens,  or  rejas,  which  the  Sevillians  use  so 
frequently,  and  design  with  so  fine,  varied, 
and  happy  a  decorative  feeling.  The  stained 
windows,  again,  are  an  element  in  the  character 
of  the  church.  Every  one  of  the  windows, 
nearly  a  hundred  in  number,  is  stained,  and 
they  are  for  the  most  part  harmonious,  usually 
in  the  rich  and  florid  Flemish  manner  of  the 


SEVILLE   CATHEDRAL         363 

seventeenth  century,  which  is  here  entirely  in 
place.  These  windows  are  often  veiled  by  semi- 
transparent  curtains,  and  are  generally  very 
highly  placed,  the  clerestory  being  at  a  great 
height,  and  they  are  by  no  means  very  large. 
The  varied  patches  of  colour  which  they  throw 
on  the  walls  and  piers  and  pavement,  bringing 
out  the  crystalline  texture  of  the  marble, 
harmonise  happily  with  the  impression  of  the 
whole  place.  All  the  accessories,  moreover,  of 
the  cathedral's  equipment  are  on  the  same  scale 
of  harmonious  vastness  as  the  edifice  itself.  The 
great  candles,  the  bells  clanged  in  the  choir  at 
the  elevation  of  the  Host,  the  immense  choir- 
books,  the  enormous  font  for  the  consecrated  oil, 
the  huge  iron-bound  chests  to  hold  the  contribu- 
tions of  the  faithful, — all  these  and  the  like 
accessories  are  on  the  same  grandiose  scale. ^ 

While  romantic  and  mysterious  splendour, 
and  a  harmonious  rhetoric,  confidently  and 
happily  bold,  are  the  dominant  notes  of  Seville 
Cathedral,  there  is  yet  a  certain  negligence 
and  familiarity,  a  certain  homeliness,  about  the 
splendour  that  is  not  the  least  part  of  its 
effectiveness.  Merely  as  a  museum  of  pictures 
and  antiquities  it  would  rank  high  among  the 
galleries  of  Europe.     Yet   it  is  not  mainly  or 

^  Thus  there  are  as  many  as  two  hundred  choir-books,  over  three 
feet  in  height  by  over  two  feet  in  breadth,  many  dating  from  the 
fifteenth  century,  with  varied  and  beautiful  miniatures,  borders,  and 
capitals. 


364  THE  SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

primarily  a  show-place,  like  St.  Peter's  with  its 
cold  and  vacuous  magnificence,  or  our  painfully 
well-kept  English  cathedrals.  There  is  no 
extreme  care  for  spotless  cleanliness,  for  the 
perfect  repair  of  every  detail,  for  rigid  neatness 
and  orderliness.  Here  and  there  the  marble  is 
broken  and  the  stone -work  crumbled  away ; 
fragments  have  fallen  out  of  some  of  the 
gorgeous  stained  windows.  But  a  faint  crum- 
bling of  decay  seems  part  of  the  very  vitality 
of  Seville  Cathedral ;  a  spotlessly  neat  and  trim 
church  is  scarcely  likely  to  be  put  to  much 
use.  This  church  is  a  place  of  real  and  constant 
use ;  people  of  all  classes  frequent  it ;  the  flutter 
of  ceremonial,  the  sound  of  worship,  seem  seldom 
to  cease  within  its  walls.  There  are  eighty -two 
altars  besides  the  high  altar,  and  one  hesitates 
to  say  that  there  are  too  many. 

The  cathedral  is  the  chief  scene  of  all  the 
great  Church  ceremonies,  as  well  as  the  centre 
towards  which  the  characteristic  popular  re- 
ligious processions,  the  pasos,  are  naturally 
directed.  These  pasos  take  place  everywhere 
and  all  day  long  on  Good  Friday,  and  to  some 
extent  on  the  two  preceding  days.  The  whole 
city  is  given  up  to  them,  all  vehicular  traffic  is 
stopped,  and  every  one,  from  the  mayor  and 
civic  dignitaries  downwards,  is  present,  either  in 
special  seats  in  the  public  squares  or  at  the 
windows  or  in  the  streets.     It  is  impossible  to 


SEVILLE   CATHEDRAL         365 

cross  or  penetrate  the  main  arteries  of  traffic ; 
the  visitor  must  see  the  pasos,  for  he  cannot  see 
anything  else.  Every  procession  consists  of  a 
single  sacred  figure,  or  a  group  representing  a 
scene  from  the  Passion,  of  more  than  life-size 
proportions,^  borne  on  the  heads  of  some  twenty- 
five  invisible  men  at  an  extremely  slow  pace, 
and  accompanied  by  the  members  of  the  cofradia^ 
or  lay  brotherhood,  to  whom  it  belongs,  dressed 
in  their  peculiar  costume,  which  varies  in  colour 
in  the  difi"erent  brotherhoods,  but  is  essentially 
a  long  gown  with  a  tall,  stiff,  peaked  cowl, 
covering  the  face,  with  loopholes  for  the  eyes, 
while  each  brother  carries  a  great  hghted  candle. 
Many  of  the  figures  are  very  finely  conceived, 
and  are  dramatic  in  expression  ;  some  of  them 
are  the  work  of  Montanes,  the  seventeenth 
century  Sevillian  sculptor,  and  the  best  and 
most  characteristic  exponent  of  the  Sevillian 
spirit  as  applied  to  polychrome  carving.  More 
impressive,  and  to  the  crowd  also  more  peculiarly 
sacred,  are  some  of  the  single  figures  of  the 
Virgin,  in  which  the  quality  of  the  carving  is 
not  visible.     Such  is  the  Virgen  de  Regla, — a 

1  It  is  noteworthy  that  there  is  some  reason  to  think  that  the 
Christian  adoration  of  images  first  became  marked  in  Spain  ;  this  is 
indicated  by  a  famous  canon  (36)  against  such  worship,  passed  by 
the  Council  of  Elvira  (the  ancient  Granada)  in  306,  while  Pope 
Damasus,  who,  by  giving  a  new  impulse  to  Christian  art,  exerted 
an  influence  in  the  same  direction,  was  also  a  Spaniard  of  tliis  period 
(see  A.  W.  W.  Dale,  The  Syyiod  of  Elvira,  p.  292  ;  also  Glover,  Life 
and  Letters  in  the  Fourth  Century,  p.  250). 


366  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

gracious  Virgin,  slightly  bowed  forward,  with  a 
delicate  lace  handkerchief  in  her  hand,  and 
enfolded  in  a  vast  and  gorgeous  mantle  of  dark 
velvet,  gold-embroidered  in  a  large  flowing 
decorative  scheme.  Candles  and  bouquets  are 
placed  in  front  of  her ;  a  few  marigolds  (a  flower 
in  England  also  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  as  the 
name  still  bears  witness)  are  sprinkled  on  the 
edge  of  her  mantle,  and  now  and  then  from 
among  the  crowd  a  child  or  young  girl,  in  a 
timid  yet  ardent  voice,  sings  a  brief  saeta  with 
eyes  fixed  on  the  Virgin's  face.  As  the  gracious 
hieratic  goddess  is  thus  borne  towards  the 
cathedral  on  the  heads  of  men,  through  the 
reverent  bareheaded  crowd,  to  the  sound  of 
music,  with  exceeding  slowness  and  a  tremulous 
vibratory  movement  which  seems  to  impart 
to  her  a  kind  of  personal  life,  one  begins  to 
realise  Ashtaroth  and  the  great  Mediterranean 
goddess  of  spring,  of  which  the  Virgin  is  in- 
deed the  last  lineal  descendant,  the  Berecynthian 
mother,  borne,  as  Virgil  describes  her,  on  a  car 
through  Phrygian  cities.  One  remembers,  indeed, 
that  Seville  was  the  only  city  of  the  western 
world  that  held  a  temple  of  Salammbo,  whence 
every  year  at  her  festival  the  goddess  went 
through  the  city  in  procession  on  the  shoulders 
of  noble  ladies.  Justina  and  Rufina,  the  young 
Christian  market-girls,  refused  to  do  her  homage 
and   were   martyred   by   the   pious  crowd,  be- 


SEVILLE  CATHEDRAL         367 

coming  in  their  turn  the  tutelary  saints  of 
Seville.  Yet  in  the  end  Salammbo  has  con- 
quered, and  the  ancient  Sevillians  could  not 
fail  to  recognise  and  reverence  their  goddess  in 
the  streets  to-day.  As  one  gazes  on  her  one 
begins  to  understand  the  potent  life  with  which 
custom  and  faith  and  art  can  endow  a  mere 
symbol,  and  the  fascination  with  which  such  a 
symbol  can  hold  the  imaginations  of  men. 

If  Seville  Cathedral  is  ceaselessly  rich  and 
interesting  in  daylight,  it  gains  a  new  and 
profound  impressiveness  at  night.  Nothing 
could  exceed  the  overwhelming  impression  pro- 
duced by  the  cathedral  at  night  during  the 
days  before  Easter  Sunday.  All  the  vast  doors 
were  opened  wide,  and  at  one  corner  a  bril- 
liant glimpse  of  the  electrically  lighted  streets 
streamed  in.  Yet  the  cathedral  was  very  dim, 
for  the  most  part  only  lighted  by  a  few  candles 
placed  high  against  the  great  piers  of  the  nave ; 
all  round  the  choir  the  crowd  was  impassable ; 
in  the  rest  of  the  church  characteristic  Spanish 
groups  crouched  at  the  bases  of  the  great  clus- 
tered shafts,  and  chattered  and  used  their  fans 
familiarly,  as  if  in  their  own  homes,  while  dogs 
ran  about  unmolested.  The  Miserere  of  Eslava 
was  being  performed,  and  the  vast  church  lent 
itself  superbly  to  the  music  and  to  the  scene. 
It  was  a  scene,  as  the  artist-friend  who  accom- 
panied me  remarked,  stranger  than  the  designs 


368  THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

of  Martin,  as  bizarre  as  something  out  of  Poe 
or  Baudelaire.  In  the  dim  light  the  huge  piers 
seemed  larger  and  higher  than  ever,  while  the 
faint  altar-lights  dimly  lit  up  the  iron  screen  of 
the  capilla  mayor,  as  in  Rembrandt's  conception 
of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  In  this  scene  of 
enchantment  one  felt  that  Santa  Maria  of 
Seville  had  delivered  up  the  last  secret  of  her 
mystery  and  romance. 


XV 

MONSERRAT 


The  mystic  shrine  that  was  the  home  of  the 
Holy  Grail,  borne  away  from  human  strife  to  a 
remote  corner  of  the  world,  long  haunted  the 
mediaeval  mind,  and  when  in  modern  times 
that  legend  again  emerges  in  the  crowning 
achievement  of  Wagner's  genius,  the  Grail  is 
still  preserved  by  a  religious  order  at  Monsalvat, 
in  Gothic  Spain,  not  far  from  the  land  of  the 
Moslems. 

The  northerners  who  dreamed  of  Monsalvat 
in  their  moments  of  fervent  devotion  or 
romantic  exaltation  had  heard  a  rumour,  but 
for  the  most  part  they  knew  little  or  nothing 
of  its  kernel  of  fact.  Yet  the  rumour  itself 
is  the  most  potent  evidence  of  the  world-wide 
fascination  which  the  ancient  mountain  shrine 
of  Monserrat  exerted  over  the  imaginations  of 
men    for   more    than    a    thousand   years,    and, 

369  2  B 


370  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

indeed,  still  exerts  even  to-day.  It  is  in  vain 
that  one  climbs  the  heights  of  Monserrat  with 
memories  of  Amfortas  and  the  "  pure  fool." 
When  we  have  made  our  way  up,  beyond  even 
the  shrine  and  the  monastery,  to  the  great 
ravine  which  is  said  to  have  rent  the  summit 
of  the  mountain  at  the  moment  of  the  cruci- 
fixion, and  when  we  have  passed  the  fantastic 
row  of  rocky  pinnacles  to  which  the  name  of 
"  Guardians  of  the  Holy  Grail "  has  been 
assigned,  we  have  seen  all  that  there  is  to 
connect  the  real  Monserrat  with  the  legendary 
Monsalvat.^  Perhaps  we  should  be  well  content 
that  so  sublime  a  symbol  has  long  been  borne 
away  to  an  invisible  home,  and  that  the  Holy 
Grail  should  have  its  sole  and  immortal  shrine 
in  the  human  imagination. 

But  the  real  and  still  living  legend  of 
Monserrat,  though  of  no  profound  imaginative 
significance,  has  yet  sufficed  to  give  an  incom- 
parable spiritual  halo  to  a  spot  which,  even  if 
it  had  not  become  a  shrine  of  faith,  must  always 
be  a  shrine  of  Nature.  It  is  said  that  St.  Luke 
— by  tradition  regarded  as  the  most  accom- 
plished of  the  first  Christians — once  fashioned  a 
wooden  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Whoever 
the  sculptor  may  have  been,  however,  it  seems 

^  It  may  be  worth  noting  that  not  very  far  away  from  Monserrat, 
in  Valencia  Cathedral,  there  is  a  chalice,  the  Santa  Caliz, — carved 
out  of  sardonyx,  and  belonging  to  the  Imperial  Roman  epoch, — which 
is  traditionally  held  to  be  the  cup  used  at  the  Last  Supper, 


MONSERRAT  371 

to  be  agreed  that  the  image,  still  venerated 
here,  was  counted  as  sacred  at  a  period  anterior 
even  to  legend.  In  the  eighth  century — and 
how  much  earlier  it  is  impossible  to  say — monks 
would  seem  to  be  settled  in  the  mountain,  and 
on  the  coming  of  the  Moors  to  have  concealed 
the  image  in  a  grotto  and  fled.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  ninth  century — when  the  history  of 
Monserrat,  heightened  by  legend,  really  opens 
—  the  image  was  accidentally  discovered  by 
shepherds.  Nuns  were  then  planted  here,  soon 
to  give  place  to  Benedictine  monks  from  the 
great  abbey  of  Kipoll.  Through  many  vicissi- 
tudes the  Virgin  of  Monserrat  always  emerged 
triumphant ;  early  in  the  fifteenth  century  her 
shrine,  from  being  only  a  priory  under  Kipoll, 
became  an  independent  abbey.  From  the  first, 
probably,  it  was  the  haunt  of  hermits.  The 
serrated  mountain  was  as  naturally  formed  to 
be  the  home  of  hermits  as  the  devout  Spaniard 
is  formed  to  make  a  hermit ;  every  hermit  could 
here  find  his  solitary  eyrie  in  the  cliff  over  the 
great  plain,  and  no  hermitage  was  ever  without 
its  inmate.  Slowly,  too,  as  the  fame  of  the 
Lady  of  Monserrat  grew,  a  mighty  army  of 
pilgrims  began  to  march  up  the  winding  path 
to  this  high  shrine,  to  present  their  offerings 
and  to  receive  the  hospitality  of  the  monks. 
In  the  sixteenth  century,  it  is  said,  they  num- 
bered half  a  million  a  year.     Kings  and  princes 


372  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

and  nobles  joined  in  tlie  procession ;  once  a 
queen,  Violante,  the  wife  of  Don  Juan  I., 
climbed  up  barefoet ;  Charles  V.  came  here  nine 
times ;  a  great  conqueror,  Don  John  of  Austria, 
came  here  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  Virgin  the 
spoils  of  Lepanto  and  to  cover  the  whole  church 
with  gold ;  most  memorable  visit  of  all,  it  was 
here  that  the  soldier  Loyola  came  to  bid  fare- 
well to  earthly  camps,  to  spend  the  night  before 
the  Virgin,  to  leave  his  sword  on  her  altar,  to 
watch  over  his  new  spiritual  weapons  like  a 
knight  of  chivalry  in  Amadis  de  Gaul,  con- 
secrating himself  as  a  soldier  of  the  Church — the 
first  general  of  the  best-organised  and  most 
famous  army  that  has  ever  fought  in  her 
service. 

It  was  not  alone  in  the  spiritual  sphere  that 
Monserrat  stood  forth  resplendent  above  the 
world  around.  Like  every  great  Benedictine 
monastery,  it  was  a  focus  of  work  and  enlighten- 
ment. Its  abbots  were  sometimes  fine  architects, 
and  they  knew  also  where  to  find  the  best 
sculptors  and  craftsmen  in  Spain  to  beautify 
their  splendid  Byzantine  church.  They  founded 
a  school  of  music.  They  set  up  a  famous 
printing-press  when  printing  was  still  a  novelty 
in  the  world.  If  men  brought  here  in  profusion 
their  precious  things  for  love  of  the  Virgin,  the 
guardians  of  her  shrine  in  the  days  of  its  pros- 
perity  were  never  unmindful  of  their  own  re- 


MONSERRAT  373 

sponsibilities.  The  gifts  of  natural  site  and 
scenery,  antiquity  and  legend,  the  adoration  of 
a  large  part  of  Europe,  the  skill  and  energy  of 
its  own  monks,  thus  combined  to  render  Mon- 
serrat  a  shrine  of  almost  unparalleled  magni- 
ficence, although  from  its  natural  position  it 
always  preserved  a  certain  aristocratic  aloofness, 
and  never  enjoyed  the  immense  vulgar  fame 
throughout  Christendom  of  the  other  great 
Spanish  shrine,  that  of  St.  James  of  Com- 
postela. 

Then  at  last  in  the  early  years  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  came  the  War  of  Independence. 
Monserrat  is  a  natural  fortress — a  tempting  one, 
moreover,  to  seize,  for  the  French  scented  a  rich 
booty.  They  climbed  the  mountain,  slew  or 
dispersed  the  monks,  trampled  down  the  shrine, 
melted  or  carried  off  its  precious  things.  What 
the  French  left  was  overturned  by  that  internal 
revolution,  a  few  years  later,  which  made  every 
great  religious  house  in  Spain  the  picturesque 
ruin  which  we  see  it  to-day.  When  Ford  visited 
Monserrat  he  found  it  "an  abomination  of  de- 
solation," in  which  it  was  hard  even  to  secure  a 
resting-place. 

Now  once  again,  though  its  old  splendour 
has  departed,  Monserrat  is  alive.  The  great 
church  has  been  restored ;  large  buildings  cluster 
around  to  furnish  the  pilgrim  and  the  visitor 
with  a  lodging  that  is,  nominally  at  all  events, 


374  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

free ;  the  old  shrines  are  well  kept,  and  the 
Brothers  who  guard  this  ancient  home  of  Our 
Lady  have  re-established  the  School  of  Music. 
The  Virgin  of  Monserrat  is  still  the  battle-cry 
of  the  Catholics  of  Catalonia.  At  a  meeting 
held  not  long  ago  in  Barcelona  to  protest 
against  the  law  of  association  proposed  by 
the  Liberal  Government,  amid  cries  of  "  Viva 
Espana  ! "  and  "  Viva  Cataluna  !  "  arose  the 
opposing  Catholic  cry  of  "  Viva  la  Virgen  de 
Monserrat ! "  For  there  is  an  indestructible 
vitality  in  this  mountain  shrine.  It  was  once 
the  Roman  Estorcil  and  a  temple  of  Venus. 
Even  before  that,  we  may  well  believe,  some 
Iberian  deity  was  reverenced  here.  Many  a 
faith  may  have  alighted  on  this  misty  height 
and  silently  winged  its  way  into  the  darkness 
when  the  twilight  of  its  godhead  arrived.  And 
if  in  the  ages  to  come  a  new  faith  should  arise 
in  the  world,  a  new  goddess  embody  the  human 
dream  of  adorable  grace,  we  may  be  sure  she 
will  be  worshipped  at  Monserrat. 


n 

Nowadays  not  only  is  Monserrat  a  centre  of 
activity  once  more,  but  the  path  of  the  pilgrim 
has  even  been  made  easy.  When  first  I  saw 
Monserrat  from  afar,  fifteen  years  ago,  there  was 
no  way  of  access  to  the  monastery  but  by  the 


MONSERRAT  375 

ancient  though  excellent  roads  made  by  the 
monks.  Since  then  the  ascetic  Spaniard  has  so 
far  condescended  to  modern  ideas  of  comfort  as 
to  make  a  little  mountain  railway  from  Monistrol 
up  almost  to  the  very  spot  below  the  monastery 
where,  as  the  inscription  shows, — "  Aqui  se  hizo 
immovil  la  Santa  Imagen  en  880," — the  image 
of  the  Virgin  on  its  discovery  refused  to  be 
borne  away  from  her  mountain,  and  so  indicated 
the  magnificent  site  on  which  the  monastery  was 
to  be  erected. 

At  last,  one  day  early  in  May,  I  stepped  into 
the  train  which  was  to  bear  me  beyond  the  river 
Llobregat,  and  so  up  the  face  of  the  mountain, 
somewhat  awed  at  the  prospect  of  at  last  visiting 
a  sacred  spot  towards  which  my  thoughts  had  so 
often  been  set.  I  was  at  first  surprised  to  find 
that  my  only  companions  were  two  loving  young 
couples  belonging  to  the  people.  It  had  not 
occurred  to  me  that  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of 
Monserrat  should  be  a  fitting  place  for  a  honey- 
moon. I  had  forgotten,  what  I  was  soon  to 
realise,  that  in  the  simple,  ardent,  and  austere 
temperament  of  the  Spaniard  love  and  religion 
are  two  forms  of  passion  that  naturally  merge 
into  each  other,  and  that  the  conditions  for 
gratifying  the  one  instinct  may  very  well  be 
adequate  to  gratify  the  other ;  in  Spain  a 
holiday  is  still,  as  it  once  was  with  us  in  the 
north,  a  holy  day. 


376  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Imagine  a  vaster  and  more  gracious  Gibraltar, 
piled  and  clustered  masses  of  conglomerate  rock, 
with  bushes  and  small  trees  growing  on  the 
ledges  and  in  the  clefts,  rising — sheerly,  it  seems 
in  the  distance — from  an  immense  undulating 
plain  through  which  winds  the  river  Llobregat, 
dotted  along  its  banks  with  towns  and  villages, 
while  in  the  distance  lie  the  hills,  and  far  beyond, 
dim  and  shadowy,  the  snow-capped  Pyrenees,  of 
which  Monserrat  itself  is  really  a  separate  out- 
lying eminence.  Too  far  from  any  strategic 
position  to  have  played  a  great  part  in  history  as 
a  fortress,  Monserrat  has  been  a  spiritual  citadel, 
and  this  holy  mountain  with  its  divine  lady  and 
her  servants  has  dominated  the  land  from  before 
the  dawn  of  history. 

The  little  train  has  arrived,  and  I  follow  in 
the  wake  of  the  two  young  couples,  for  whom 
the  way  seems  not  unfamiliar,  to  an  office,  where  a 
young  man,  a  lay  Brother,  enters  my  name  and 
place  of  abode  in  a  book,  and  without  further 
question  hands  a  key  to  another  similarly 
habited  youth,  who,  with  two  sheets  and  a 
towel  over  his  arm,  precedes  me  to  a  barrack-like 
building  bearing  the  name  of  Santa  Teresa  de 
Jesus,  unlocks  the  door  of  a  third-storey  room, 
and  leaves  me  absolutely  and  in  every  respect  to 
my  own  devices  for  the  three  days  during  which 
Our  Lady  of  Monserrat  grants  me  the  hospitality 
of  her  lodging. 


MONSERRAT  377 

I  look  around  the  little  whitewashed  cell  which 
for  this  brief  space  will  be  all  my  own.  It  is 
scrupulously  clean  and  neat,  furnished  with  abso- 
lute simplicity.  I  note — an  indication  that  I  am 
not  actually  within  a  duly  constituted  monastery 
— that  there  are  two  Httle  beds,  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  cell  by  a  brillant  curtain,  the  one 
touch  of  colour  and  gaiety  my  cell  reveals.  A 
little  table,  a  chair,  a  basin,  an  empty  water-pot, 
and  a  candlestick  without  a  candle,  complete  the 
equipment  entrusted  to  my  care.  When  I  have 
made  my  bed,  taken  my  water-pot  to  fill  it 
below,  and  bought  a  candle  at  the  provision- 
store  which  supplies  those  pilgrims  who  find  the 
one  restaurant  here  beyond  their  means,  I  feel  at 
last  free  to  put  the  key  of  my  cell  in  my  pocket 
and  give  all  my  thoughts  to  Monserrat. 

It  is  now  evening ;  from  the  ledge  on  which 
the  little  group  of  buildings  stands,  the  final 
summits  of  Monserrat,  above  the  monastery,  are 
to-night  wreathed  with  delicate  mist.  As  I 
wander  up  and  down  the  silent  deserted  terrace,  in 
front  of  the  small  group  of  buildings  which  makes 
Monserrat  an  abode  of  the  living,  and  breathe 
the  exquisite  air,  and  gaze  out  into  the  mysterious 
depths  below,  or  up  at  the  rocky  pinnacles  which 
alone  remain  bright,  I  feel  at  last  that  I  have 
indeed  reached  the  solemn  shrine  that  I  have 
long  dreamed  of  finding  at  Monserrat.  The 
absolute  peace,  the  absence  of  any  sign  of  life, 


378  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

becomes  at  last  a  little  puzzling  ;  but  tbe  puzzle 
is  solved  when  I  make  my  way  in  tbe  gloom  to 
the  church,  and  pushing  open  a  httle  door,  find 
myself  amid  the  scattered  worshippers  in  the 
obscurity  of  the  great  church.  The  gloom  here, 
indeed,  is  far  deeper  than  outside;  the  fine 
Spanish  instinct  for  devotion  has  always  known, 
what  in  the  north  the  glorification  of  light  has 
made  it  so  hard  for  us  to  realise,  that  a  light 
subdued  to  gloom  alone  befits  the  attitude  of 
prayer  or  of  adoration  ;  that  a  church  is  the  last 
place  where  we  should  wish  to  become  acutely 
conscious  of  the  petty  details  which  mark  the 
individualities  of  our  fellow  -  creatures.  An 
atmosphere  of  mystery,  a  vaguely  glowing 
splendour  that  envelops  and  conceals  all  the 
world's  distinctions,  alone  befits  the  attitude  of 
approach  to  the  supreme  mystery. 

It  is  the  hour  of  Oracion,  almost  the  only 
hour  of  the  day  when  the  church  is  open  to  the 
pilgrims,  and  the  exquisite  voices  of  the  boys  are 
chanting  the  Ave  Maria,  with  the  restrained  and 
deliberate  modulation  that  comes  of  good  train- 
ing, as  I  grope  to  a  seat.  If  the  glare  of  day 
could  penetrate  the  church,  it  might  reveal,  one 
feels,  a  painfully  brilliant  spectacle  of  tinselled 
tawdry,  which  now  is  subdued  to  a  vague 
shimmer  of  gold,  setting  forth  the  massive 
proportions  of  the  aisleless  Romanesque  church, 
while  the  scattered  lamps  the  better  emphasise 


MONSERRAT  379 

the  duly  ordered  candles  that  burn  in  the  shrine, 
high  up  in  the  apse  above  the  altar,  enclosing 
the  sacred  image.  In  this  atmosphere  of 
mellowed  spiritual  exaltation  one's  mood  blends 
insensibly  and  harmoniously  with  that  of  the 
unceasing  company  of  human  souls  which  for 
more  than  a  thousand  years  has  climbed  up  to 
pray  in  this  mountain.  Here  at  last  the 
pilgrimage  to  Monserrat  is  accomplished. 

Ill 

Sleep  is  quickly  banished  by  the  air  of  this 
height,  and  to  arise  at  five  in  the  fresh  morning 
and  stroll  along  the  mountain  paths  when  few  or 
none  are  yet  stirring  is  the  best  way  to  realise 
that  Monserrat,  far  from  being  the  mere  home 
of  the  Santa  Imagen,  was  a  shrine  of  Nature's 
making  long  before  it  became  a  shrine  of  man's. 

It  seems  to  be  the  special  distinction  of 
Monserrat  that  it  achieves  the  sheer  altitude, 
the  solemnity,  the  aloofness  of  a  mountain,  and 
yet  retains  a  certain  accessibility  and  amenity 
which  bring  it  into  communion  with  humanity. 
Within  certain  narrow  limits  its  aspects  are 
infinitely  varied, — every  time  revealing  some 
new  and  impressive  spectacle  of  jutting  pro- 
montory, or  serried  and  mighty  rock  columns,  or 
dark  ravine, — Ijut  its  main  characteristics  remain 
uniform.     It  is  always  a  huge  rock  reared  high 


380  THE  SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

in  the  clouds,  but  trees  and  plants  in  immense 
variety  grow  almost  to  the  summits  ;  pleasant 
paths  lie  in  every  direction,  and  for  the  fairly 
intelligent  wanderer  no  guide  is  necessary. 
There  are  no  hardships  the  pilgrim  here  need 
surmount.  Now  and  again  one  hears  the  distant 
sound  of  youthful  laughter ;  for  the  note  of 
Monserrat  is  one  of  laughter  as  well  as  of  prayer, 
and  on  this  keen  and  radiant  height,  which 
seems  in  a  very  literal  sense  so  near  the  sky,  it 
strikes  no  discord. 

The  paths  that  wind  round  the  mountain 
towards  the  summit  reveal  here  and  there  a 
neglected  chapel,  a  cave  that  was  once  inhabited, 
a  ruined  hermitage.  Every  such  spot  once  had 
its  hermit,  and  when  he  died  there  were  always 
eager  candidates  for  the  vacant  post.  Very 
sacred  is  the  little  cave  associated  with  the  name 
of  Garin — a  ninth-century  saint  whose  sins  were 
grievous  and  his  life  here,  it  is  said,  of  av/ful 
austerity.  "It  is  a  common  and  indeed  a  com- 
mendable custom  among  the  Spaniards,"  wrote 
James  Howell  from  Madrid,  in  1622,  in  his 
Familiar  Letters,  "  when  he  hath  passed  his 
Grand  Climacteric  to  make  a  voluntary  Resigna- 
tion of  Offices,  be  they  never  so  great  and 
profitable,  and  sequestering  and  weaning  them- 
selves, as  it  were,  from  all  mundane  Negotiations 
and  Incumbrances,  to  retire  to  some  Place  of 
Devotion,  and  spend  the  Residue  of  their  Days 


MONSERRAT  381 

in  Meditation."  ^  Very  certainly,  however,  the 
lives  of  the  world-weary  men  who  came  to  spend 
their  last  years  here  were  not  usually  without 
their  joys.  Even  this  cave  of  Garin's,  small  as 
it  is,  stands  in  an  admirably  chosen  spot  and 
commands  a  magnificent  view.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  believe  that  the  men  who  retired  from  the 
conflicts  and  anxieties  of  the  world  to  this  serene 
height  were  not  entirely  moved,  as  it  seemed  to 
the  ignorant  mob,  by  an  unquenchable  thirst  for 
suS'ering,  or  a  resolute  determination  to  expiate 
their  sins  at  all  costs.  That  would  have  been 
far  better  accomplished  in  less  exquisite  spots. 
For  many  a  weary  and  sensitive  soul,  we  may 
be  sure,  it  was  not  the  thirst  for  sufiering  but 
the  thirst  for  joy  that  led  them  to  Our  Lady  of 
Monserrat.  When  they  let  the  heavy  burden  of 
the  world  slide  from  off  their  shoulders  —  the 
cares  of  a  household,  the  hardships  of  camps,  the 
restraints  of  courts — and  climbed  to  a  new  home 
in  this  mountain,  it  was  not  with  a  sinking,  but 
with  a  rising  heart,  with  the  exhilaration  of 
St,  Francis,  with  the  glad  new  sense  of  delicious 
freedom  which  once  filled  the  men  who  went  into 
the  Thebaid.     To  lie  in  the  sunshine,  and  teach 

^  This  impulse  lias  by  do  means  died  out  from  the  Spanish  tempera- 
ment. Thus  Ruiz  Zorrilla,  the  celebrated  Republican  leader,  who 
played  a  great  part  iu  the  revolution  of  1868  and  the  subsequent  reign 
of  Amadeo,  in  his  later  years  at  Paris  virtually  became  a  monk, 
experiencing  the  influence  of  the  Doniiuicans,  and  beiug  a  fervent 
admirer  of  the  memory  of  Lacorduire. 


382  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

the  birds  to  feed  from  the  hand,  to  know  how 
delicate  is  the  taste  of  the  water  one  has  one's 
self  fetched  from  the  spring,  and  the  herbs  one 
has  gathered  with  care  ;  to  watch  the  superb  and 
ever-changing  procession  of  day  and  night,  of 
summer  and  winter ;  to  gaze  on  the  towns  and 
villages  that  lie  along  the  banks  of  the  Llobregat 
below  and  look  so  insignificant — here  was  an  un- 
failing source  of  spiritual  joy  to  men  who  knew 
how  bitterly  tasted  the  dregs  of  the  cup  of  life.^ 

Such  thoughts  are  natural  at  Monserrat  as 
one  wanders  from  holy  place  to  holy  place,  or 
spends  a  day  in  a  long  solitary  ramble  among 
the  ever-varied  delights  of  the  path  that  leads 
to  the  extreme  summit  of  the  mountain  at  San 
Jeronimo.  It  would  be  an  error,  however,  to 
assume  that  even  when  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady 
of  Monserrat  was  at  the  height  of  its  glory,  even 
when  the  mountain  was  the  goal  of  innumerable 
pilgrims,  the  hermit's  life  was  altogether  without 
hardship.  But  here  it  is  that  the  peculiar 
temperament  of  the  Spaniard  comes  into  play. 
A  certain  ardour  and  at  the  same  time  a  certain 
hardness  lie  at  the  heart  of  that  temperament. 
In  love  and  in  religion,  in  the  life  of  the  crowd  or 
in  solitude,  whatever  the  excess  of  his  fervour,  he 

^  Peyron,  who  came  here  before  Monserrat  was  devastated,  wrote  that 
"  each  of  the  solitary  hermitages,  though  from  afar  they  seem  to  lack 
everything,  has  its  chapel,  its  cell,  a  well  hollowed  out  in  the  rock, 
and  a  little  garden ;  the  hermits  are  for  the  most  part  men  of  good 
family." 


MONSERRAT  383 

retains  the  instincts  of  a  spiritual  athlete — that 
is  to  say,  in  the  strict  sense,  of  an  ascetic.  That 
is  indeed  the  secret  of  the  curious  unity  and 
simplicity  of  the  Spanish  soul — it  ever  has  the 
ardent  and  unsparing  simplicity  of  flame.  Santa 
Teresa  de  Jesus  and  Don  Juan  Tenorio,  unlike 
representatives  of  the  Spanish  soul  in  life  and 
legend  as  they  may  seem,  yet  alike  reveal  this 
flame-hke  quality.  It  is  equally  visible  in  the 
lowliest  and  the  greatest  spirits.  Even  Lope  de 
Vega,  with  all  his  passionate  exuberance  of 
literary  production,  and  all  his  reckless  dis- 
soluteness of  living,  to  the  end  of  his  long  life 
never  shook  himself  free  from  his  inborn  spiritual 
asceticism.  He  never  ate  meat  on  Fridays,  we 
are  told,  though  for  his  health's  sake  he  had  a 
dispensation  to  do  so,  and  on  that  day  also  he 
always  flagellated  himself;  even  on  the  Friday 
before  he  died,  it  is  recorded,  the  walls  of  his 
room  and  the  discipline  he  had  used  to  scourge 
himself  were  found  stained  with  fresh  blood.  ^  It 
is  the  preoccupation  with  passion,  the  predomin- 
ance of  the  lover  and  the  saint,  which  makes  it 
so  easy  for  the  Spaniard  to  treat  with  a  light  and 
easy  negligence  the  heavy  burden  of  material 
comfort  which  hangs  like  a  millstone  round  the 
necks  of  northern  people.^ 

^  Rcnnert's  full  and  authoritative  life  of  Lope  de  Vega  is  well  worth 
study  for  the  light  it  throws  ou  some  aspects  of  Spanish  character. 

'■^  On  the  literary  side  Coventry  Patniore,  in  a  reviL'w  of  Valera's 
Pepita  Jimenez  {Religio  Poetcc,  p.  73),  has  well  summed  up  what  is 


384  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Thus  it  is  that  a  large  part  of  the  charm  of 
Monserrat  lies  in  its  freedom,  in  the  exclusion  of 
all  demands  which  are  not  essentially  necessary. 
The  ascetic  temperament  of  the  Spaniard  renders 
few  things  necessary,  while  his  individualism 
makes  it  easy  for  him,  in  no  unkindly  spirit,  to 
leave  the  stranger  alone.  I  cannot  remember 
that  any  one  during  the  whole  of  my  stay  made 
any  attempt  to  hamper  my  movements,  to  offer 
his  services  or  his  wares,  or  to  demand  any 
gratuity.  There  are  guides,  indeed,  but  they  do 
not  proffer  their  services,  and  there  is  a  little 
bureau  where  post-cards  are  sold,  but  it  is  nearly 
always  closed.  One  reflected  on  all  that  would 
be  seen  here  if  some  evil  fate  had  placed  Our 
Lady  of  Monserrat's  shrine  in  one's  own  country 

quintessential  in  this  aspect  of  the  Spanish  soul:  "Alike  iu 
Calderon  and  in  this  work  of  Juan  Valera,  we  find  that  complete 
synthesis  of  gravity  of  matter  and  gaiety  of  manner  which  is  the 
glittering  crown  of  art,  and  which  out  of  Spanish  literature  is  to  be 
found  only  in  Shakespeare,  and  even  in  him  in  a  far  less  obvious 
degree.  It  is  only  in  Spanish  literature,  with  the  one  exception  of 
Dante,  that  religion  and  art  are  discovered  to  be  not  necessarily  hostile 
powers  ;  and  it  is  in  Spanish  literature  only,  and  without  any 
exception,  that  gaiety  of  life  is  nnide  to  appear  as  being  not  only 
compatible  with,  but  the  very  flower  of  that  root  which  in  the  best 
works  ot  other  literatures  hides  itself  iu  the  earth,  and  only  sends  its 
concealed  sap  through  stem  and  leaf  of  human  duty  and  desire.  The 
reason  of  this  great  and  admirable  singularity  seems  mainly  to  have 
been  the  singular  aspect  of  most  of  the  best  Spanish  minds  towards 
religion.  With  them,  religion  has  been,  as  it  was  meant  to  be,  a 
human  passion."  Patmore  seems  to  have  made  no  special  study  of 
Spanish  things,  but  he  was  himself,  though  without  strain  of  Spanish 
blood,  akin  to  the  Spanish  temperament,  anima  iiaturaliter  Iberica, 
narrow  and  yet  deep,  individualistic  and  daring,  passionate  ,and 
mystical. 


MONSERRAT  385 

— of  the  huge  and  gaudy  hotels,  with  their 
liveried  flunkies,  of  the  tea-garden  which  would 
replace  the  cross  on  the  Mirador,  of  the  innumer- 
able shops  and  booths  where  the  stranger  would 
be  pestered  to  buy  altogether  unnecessary 
articles,  of  the  gigantic  advertisements  of 
whiskies  and  liver -pills  which  would  defile 
every  exquisite  point  of  rock.  As  one  thinks 
of  these  things  one  realises  how  far  we 
have  yet  to  travel  before  we  attain  to  the 
Spaniard's  insight  into  the  art  of  living,  his 
fine  parsimony  in  life,  lest  for  life's  sake  he 
Bhould  lose  the  causes  for  living,  his  due  sub- 
ordination of  dull  material  claims  to  the  larger 
spiritual  claims  of  joy  and  freedom. 

That,  indeed,  is  the  final  lesson  of  Monserrat, 
and  the  last  thought  as  we  leave  this  shrine  in 
the  sky  where  the  Spaniard  comes  for  a  brief 
season  to  pray  and  to  laugh  and  to  make  love. 
It  is  but  a  little  thing  to  have  seen  the  old 
wooden  image  of  the  Virgin,  laden  as  it  may  be 
with  the  memories  of  a  dozen  centuries.  But  it 
is  a  great  thing  to  have  been  lifted  for  a  moment 
into  a  larger  spiritual  air,  to  have  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  finer  ideal  of  life,  to  have  learnt 
a  lesson  in  the  art  of  living.  The  symbolic 
quest  of  the  Grail,  after  all,  may  still  be  pursued 
in  Monserrat. 


2  0 


XVI 

SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY 

The  war  which  deprived  Spain  of  the  last  relics 
of  that  empire  on  which  once  "  the  sun  never 
set,"  has  exerted  a  twofold  influence  on  the 
Spanish  people.  On  the  one  hand,  it  has  had  a 
definite  material  efi"ect  in  enabling  Spaniards  to 
devote  their  energies  to  the  task  of  working  out 
their  own  economic  salvation.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  has  had  a  less  obvious  influence  of  a 
more  spiritual  character.  It  has  induced  those 
Spaniards  who  hold  that  a  nation  can  only  be 
great  by  its  moral  and  intellectual  distinction, 
by  its  fidelity  to  its  own  best  instincts,  to  set 
themselves  a  task  of  national  self-analysis  and 
self-criticism.  What  is  the  real  spirit  of  Spain? 
these  men  seem  to  ask  themselves ;  what  is  the 
nature  of  her  great  traditions  ?  how  can  we 
modern  Spaniards  learn  to  become  faithful  to 
that  spirit  and  those  traditions  ?  to  what  extent 
are  we  wise  in  doing  so  ?  The  men  who  ask 
these   questions — a  small   group    of  university 

S86 


SPANISH  IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    387 

professors,  novelists,  journalists,  belonging  to  all 
parts  of  Spain — play  in  their  own  land  to-day 
the  same  prophetic  part  which  was  played  in  a 
more  sonorous  manner  nearly  a  century  ago  by 
Carlyle  in  England  and  Emerson  in  America. 
The  new  growth  of  material  prosperity  in  Spain 
has  received  attention  from  many  writers  in 
many  places,  but,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  this 
corresponding  movement  of  spiritual  self-ques- 
tioning has  attracted  little  or  no  notice  outside 
Spain ;  and  it  may  be  worth  while  to  attempt  to 
describe  its  character  and  tendencies. 

The  writer  of  the  group  who  on  many  grounds 
deserves  to  be  mentioned  first,  perhaps  as  the 
leader, — for  his  book  appeared  before  the  war,  and 
has  not  been  excelled  by  any  that  has  appeared 
since, — is  Angel  Ganivet.  It  is  not  a  name  that 
seems  ever  to  be  mentioned  outside  Spain,  even 
by  those  who  concern  themselves  with  Spanish 
literature,  but  to  serious  Spaniards  of  the 
younger  generation  Ganivet  is  well  known,  and 
with  reason,  for  his  little  masterpiece,  Idearium 
Espanol,  contains  more  good  thinking  and  good 
writing  than  any  book  that  has  come  out  of 
Spain  during  recent  years.  It  was  not,  indeed, 
written  in  Spain,  and  to  that  fact,  doubtless,  its 
fine  quality  of  detachment,  of  deliberate  and 
discriminate  insight  into  the  genius  of  Spain, 
is  in  large  measure  owing.  After  a  highly 
distinguished   academical    career    Ganivet    had 


388  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

entered    the    consular   service,    and   a   consul's 
duties  have  not  rarely,  from  the  days  of  Haw- 
thorne onward,  been  found  compatible  with  even 
the  best  literary   work.      A   consul,  moreover, 
though  he  is  in  a  specially  favourable  position 
to  obtain  an  objective  vision  of  his  own  land, 
can  scarcely  be  described  as  an  exile ;  he  is  still 
living  under  the  flag  of  his  own  country,  and  is 
daily  brought  into  contact  with  its  people  and 
its   interests.      For   a   long   time  Ganivet  was 
stationed  at  Antwerp ;  his  Idearium  was  com- 
pleted at  Helsingfors  in  1897.     Two  years  later, 
when  only  thirty-three,  he  was  dead  by  his  own 
hand,  under  obscure  and  tragical  circumstances.^ 
Ganivet's  diagnosis  of  the  disease  from  which 
his  country  is  suffering — for  nearly  all  intellectual 
Spaniards  seem  to  agree  that  there  is  a  disease, 
though  they  differ  as  to  its  nature  and  gravity 
— is  ahoulia,  or  lack  of  will  power.    And  though 
his  training  was  so  cosmopolitan,  he  seeks  the 
remedy   in    Spain's    own   native   force.      "The 
central  motive  of  my  idea,"  he  declares,  "  is  the 
restoration  of  the  spiritual  life  of  Spain."     In 
the  possibility  of  that  restoration  he  has  no  sort 
of  doubt.      Parodying  St.  Augustine,   he   lays 
down   the   injunction  :     "  Noli    for  as    ire  ;     in 
interiore  Hispaniae  habitat  Veritas."    It  is  within, 

1  An  interesting  account  of  Ganivet  by  his  friend  Navarro  y 
Ledesma  is  prefixed  to  a  volume  of  his  letters,  Epistolario,  though 
the  letters  themselves  are  of  no  great  interest. 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    389 

and  not  without,  that  Spain  must  seek  salva- 
tion •  close  with  locks  and  padlocks  the  doors 
through  which  the  spirit  of  Spain  issues,  to  be 
wasted  at  the  four  quarters  of  the  horizon.  This 
attitude  was  no  doubt  the  outcome  of  Ganivet's 
personal  temperament.  "  There  is  such  a  thing," 
he  wrote  to  his  friend  Navarro  y  Ledesma,  "  as 
spiritual  acclimatisation,  and  there  are  people 
who  have  no  aptitude  for  it;  I  am  one  of  them." 
The  war  which  immediately  followed  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Idearium  gave  point  to  its  moral 
by  rendering  that  moral  one  with  the  logic  of  the 
moment's  facts.  In  this  way  it  came  about  that 
Ganivet,  whose  book  would  in  any  case  have  been 
memorable — though  it  attracted  little  notice 
until  Unamuno  called  attention  to  it — became 
the  prophet  of  a  movement  of  spiritual  renais- 
sance in  Spain. 

Most  of  the  books,  indeed,  which  were 
immediately  called  forth  by  the  war,  were  too 
hasty  and  superficial  to  show  the  direct  influence 
of  so  subtle  and  quietly  suggestive  a  thinker  as 
the  author  of  Idearium  Espanol.  Some  of  them, 
reflecting  the  profound  dejection  which  was  the 
first  eff'ect  of  the  struggle  on  many  Spanish 
minds,  reveal  an  almost  unmitigated  pessimism. 
A  favourable  example  of  this  class  is  El  Proh- 
lema  Nacional,  which  Ricardo  Macias  Picavea 
published,  just  after  the  war,  in  1899  ;  for  while 
it  presents  a  very  gloomy  picture  of  the  national 


390  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

character,  there  is  in  it  a  considerable  element  of 
truth.  Macias  Picavea  reproaches  his  fellow- 
countrymen  with  their  excesses  of  arbitrary 
individualism  and  their  centrifugal  tendencies; 
therein  he  sees  the  source  of  all  Spanish  evils. 
He  would  probably  agree  with  another  Spaniard, 
Donoso  Cortes,  that  "  every  country  has  the 
government  it  deserves."  *'  We  have  produced 
a  thousand  rebellions  and  seditions,"  he  declares, 
"but  not  one  fruitful  revolution."  This  cap- 
ricious and  facile  expenditure  of  energy,  Macias 
Picavea  more  definitely  traces  in  the  form  of 
two  original  defects  of  character :  an  original 
dynamic  defect  in  the  predominance  of  passion 
over  will  (in  which  he  may  be  said  to  be  at  one 
with  Ganivet),  and  an  original  moral  defect  in 
the  substitution  of  the  principle  of  justice  by  the 
socially  inadequate  sentiment  of  friendship  and 
aflfection.  By  the  first  defect  he  accounts  for 
the  Spanish  tendency  to  live  in  the  present  and 
put  off  every  inconvenient  task  to  a  remote 
manana,  the  impulse  to  convert  life  into  a 
lottery,  the  subjectivism  that  is  content  with 
imaginary  possibilities  in  place  of  solid  and 
prudent  motives.  The  second  quality  is  the 
source  of  the  administrative  immorality  of 
Spain,  which  consists,  not  so  much  in  venality 
or  theft  as  in  the  domestic  and  neighbourly 
feeling  which  is  always  inclined  to  favour  a 
friend  because  he  is  a  friend,  and  which  erects 


SPANISH   IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    391 

impunity  almost  into  law.  Undoubtedly  Macias 
Picavea  here  touches  on  the  real  source  of  a  real 
evil,  felt  by  all  foreigners  who  have  come  into 
contact  with  administrative  Spain.  But  the 
reason  is  that  the  Spaniard,  more  perhaps  than 
any  man  in  the  civilised  world,  is  devoted  to  his 
family,  his  friend,  his  guest,  his  neighbour,  and 
on  behalf  of  the  remote  and  invisible  persons 
outside  that  circle  he  feels  no  intrinsic  motive 
for  action ;  in  the  case  of  such  some  extrinsic 
motive  is  necessary.  It  is  an  anti-social  attitude 
so  far  as  society  in  the  larger  sense  is  concerned, 
though  it  has  its  very  lovable  and  admirable 
side.  We  have  to  reconcile  it  as  well  as  we  can 
with  the  equally  undoubted  fact  that  Spain  has 
always  been  prolific,  not  only  in  rhetoricians,  but 
in  moralists.  So  far  as  Macias  Picavea  was  con- 
cerned, he  saw  little  hope  for  his  countrymen, 
and  regarded  the  national  problem  as  almost  or 
quite  desperate.  He  died  in  the  same  year  in 
which  his  book  appeared,  at  Valladolid,  before 
any  signs  of  a  brighter  future  had  appeared  on 
the  horizon. 

This  book,  it  may  be  noted  in  passing,  illus- 
trates the  assumption,  so  often  tacitly  made  both 
by  Spaniards  and  foreigners,  that  the  defects  in 
the  Spanish  national  character  are  necessarily  of 
recent  growth,  and  due  to  a  supposed  decadence. 
Let  us,  for  instance,  consider  a  characteristic 
which  is  to-day  very   familiar  both   to   natives 


392  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

and  visitors — the  tendency  to  delay  everything 
to  a  remote  to-morrow.  To  every  demand  the 
Spaniard  responds  with  a  cheerful  Manana ! 
When  the  International  Medical  Congress  met  a 
few  years  ago  at  Madrid  nothing  was  ready  on 
the  opening  day,  and  even  the  invitations  were 
by  many  only  received  after  the  Congress  was 
over.  Perhaps  it  was  this  incident  which 
suggested  to  the  satirist  who  writes  under  the 
name  of  "  Azorin,"  to  play  on  the  dilatoriness 
of  his  compatriots  in  La  Ruta  de  Don  Quijote, 
by  imagining  a  distinguished  English  surgeon 
who  comes  to  Madrid,  full  of  enthusiasm,  and 
eager  to  write  a  book  about  a  country  which 
seems  to  him  the  best  in  the  world ;  but  as  he 
pursues  his  studies  he  is  met  on  every  side  by 
procrastination,  the  most  trifling  action  cannot 
be  accomplished  without  delays,  and  he  finally 
resolves  to  call  his  book  Tlie  Time  they  Lose  in 
Spain.  But  exactly  three  centuries  ago,  in 
1607,  Sir  Francis  Bacon  referred  in  an  ofiicial 
memorandum  to  the  notorious  delays  of  the 
Spaniards  in  negotiation,  and  records  the  opinion 
of  the  Secretary  of  State,  Lord  Salisbury,  that  it 
was  not  due  to  "  malice  or  alienation  of  mind 
from  us,"  but  in  part  to  the  multiplicity  of 
Spanish  tribunals,  and  in  part  to  a  psychological 
cause,  to  "  the  nature  of  the  people  and  nation, 
which  is  proud  and  therefore  dilatory,  for  all 
proud  men  are  full  of  delays  and  must  be  waited 


SPANISH  IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    393 

on."  ^  "  All  which,"  Bacon  adds,  for  his  own  part, 
"  have  made  the  delays  of  Spain  to  come  into  a 
by-word  throughout  the  world  :  wherein  I  think 
his  Lordship  mought  allude  to  the  proverb  of 
Italy,  Mi  venga  la  morte  di  Spagna,  Let  my 
death  come  from  Spain ;  for  then  it  is  sure  to 
be  long  a-coming."  Yet  this  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  great  age  of  Spain,  when  in  every  depart- 
ment of  life  and  of  art  Spaniards  were  displaying 
an  energy  and  resolution  in  fine  achievement 
which  have  made  their  names  immortal.  Ques- 
tions of  national  psychology  are  more  com- 
plicated than  we  sometimes  realise,  and  the 
incalculable  men  who  make  a  country  great 
may  often  display  qualities  unlike,  and  even  the 
opposite  of  those  which  permanently  mark  the 
mass  of  their  fellow-countrymen. 

With  Macias  Picavea's  ably  written  book  may 
be  coupled  a  lecture  delivered  by  Dona  Emilia 
Pardo  Bazan  in  the  same  year,  La  Espana  de 
Ayer  y  La  de  Hoy,  for  it  reflects  a  very  similar 
mood  of  depression,  and  scarcely  seems  altogether 
to  correspond  to  the  lecturer's  habitual  attitude. 
In  agreement  with  Macias  Picavea  she  considers 
that  the  most  serious  Spanish  defect  is  "an 
instinct  of  individualistic  anarchy," — quite  dis- 
tinct from   the  spirit  of  independence, — which 

^  Van  Aerssen,  a  few  years  later,  alluding  to  these  Spanish  delays, 
attributed  them  not  to  pride  but  to  policy,  to  a  "judicious  obstinacy  " 
which  slowly  wore  out  opposition. 


394  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

has  dispersed  the  national  force  and  tended  to 
discord.  The  Spanish  people  was  formed  into  a 
nation  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  but  while 
under  the  earlier  conditions  there  was  vigour 
and  sap  everywhere,  the  nation  grew  weaker  and 
weaker ;  "  the  higher  we  go  back  up  the  stream 
of  history  the  more  we  find  progress,  liberty, 
toleration,  faith,  work,  virile  effort."^  Spain  has 
long  been  content  to  live  on  that  old  legend,  but 
now  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  do  so,  and 
Spaniards  must  seek  to  replace  the  legend  by  an 
ideal  of  renovation,  of  work,  and  of  efi"ort. 

A  more  hopeful  tone  is  adopted  by  Ramiro 
de  Maetzu  in  his  Hacia  Otra  Espana,  also 
published  in  1899.  He  realises,  indeed,  that 
Spain  is  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  economic 
struggle,  and  he  is  not  quite  sure  how  far  she  is 
adapted  for  success  in  the  paths  of  industrial 
progress.  But  it  is  along  such  paths  that  he 
sees  signs  of  progress.  By  energetically  pro- 
gressing in  this  direction  Spain  may  again  be- 
come great,  and  we  may  again  hope  for  a  new 
renaissance  of  the  Spanish  spirit.  A  still  more 
facile  optimism  is  represented  by  the  book  on 
"  The  Lesson  of  the  Defeat,"  La  Moral  de  la 


'  The  inevitable  conclusion  is  that  the  ancient  Spanish  individualism 
was  the  best  strength  of  the  people,  though  it  held  the  germ  of  serious 
defects.  Saavedra  {La  Invasion  de  los  Arabes  en  Espana)  concludes 
that  the  Moorish  conquest  was  due  to  the  iudiscipline  and  particularism 
of  the  Christian  resistance.  It  might  be  added  that  the  final  defeat  of 
the  Moors  was  due  to  their  exhibition  of  the  same  defects. 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    395 

Derrota,  which  Luis  Morote  published  in  1900. 
Morote  is  a  journalist,  and  was  a  correspondent 
in  Cuba,  where  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
rebels  and  condemned  to  death  as  a  spy.  But 
he  lived  to  return  to  Spain,  and  to  write  a  series 
of  books  marked  by  fervid  patriotism  and  enthu- 
siastic faith  in  the  new  Spain  of  the  future.  All 
that  Spain  needs,  he  believes,  is  to  learn  the 
lesson  of  experience,  to  abandon  the  vain  policy 
of  adventure  abroad,  and  to  work  for  the  happi- 
ness and  civilisation  of  her  own  peninsula.  That 
is  "the  moral  of  the  defeat."  It  is  the  less 
necessary,  he  thinks,  for  Spain  to  concern  her- 
self with  foreign  expeditions  since  she  has  already 
conquered  her  place  in  the  wide  world,  and  estab- 
lished one  of  the  four  world-languages.  *'  Our 
speech,  civilisation,  art,  genius,  and  racial  spirit 
will  last  for  ever  and  constitute  the  Greater 
Spain  of  the  planet,  the  moral  and  mental 
country  of  eighteen  nationalities,  nearly  a  whole 
continent,  which,  however  politically  separate, 
must  still,  for  writing  and  for  speech,  for  song 
and  for  love,  continue  to  use  the  tongue  of  Cas- 
tile." In  a  subsequent  book,  published  in  1904, 
Los  Frailes  en  Espana,  Morote  deals  with  a 
question  which,  in  common  with  many  progres- 
sive Spaniards,  he  regards  as  at  the  root  of  the 
regeneration  of  Spain, — the  question  of  religious 
communities.  "  If  we  could  only  get  rid  of  our 
monks  as  easily  as  of  our  colonies !  "  a  Spaniard  is 


396  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

represented  as  declaring  in  one  of  the  comic  papers 
of  Madrid  during  the  war.  It  was  certainly  an 
aspiration  breathed  by  many  Spaniards  of  all 
classes.  A  century  and  a  half  ago  there  was 
one  priest  to  every  thirty  inhabitants  in  Spain. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century 
Portugal,  Rome,  Sicily,  and  Turkey  were  still 
the  only  spots  in  Europe  which  showed  a  larger 
proportion  of  ecclesiastics  than  Spain.  Shortly 
afterwards,  indeed,  there  followed  the  revolu- 
tionary reform  which  has  filled  Spain  with  the 
noble  ruins  of  monasteries,  but  Morote's  book 
serves  to  show  that  Spaniards  are  still  troubled 
by  the  existence  of  their  mostly  unproductive 
monks  and  nuns. 

It  is  a  little  difficult  to  define  precisely  where 
Spain  stands  to-day  in  relation  to  this  question 
of  religious  communities.  In  one  direction  there 
is  clearly,  among  both  men  and  women,  a  large 
amount  of  faith,  of  religious  observance,  even  of 
passionate  devotion,  and  sometimes  also  of  in- 
tolerant bigotry,  the  whole  supported  by  a  mass 
of  superb  tradition,  of  magnificent  architecture 
and  ritual,  of  ecclesiastical  organisation  and 
wealth,  to-day  unsurpassed  in  any  country. 
But  in  another  direction  we  have  the  subtly 
penetrating  influences  of  Liberalism  and  Re- 
publicanism and  Anarchism,  of  the  revolt 
against  the  ancient  and  inert  forces  which  are 
believed  to  be  impeding  the  advance  of  Spain, 


SPANISH   IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    397 

The  extent  and  reality  of  this  movement  is 
shown  by  the  vigorous  efforts  of  the  Liberal 
party  in  Spain  to  follow  the  example  of  France 
and  secure  a  national  control  of  religious  associa- 
tions.^ This  discrepancy  is  reflected  in  the 
opinions  of  Spaniards  to-day.  On  one  side  we 
have,  for  instance,  one  of  the  most  modern  of 
Spanish  literary  critics,  Manuel  Bueno,  declaring 

*  The  Conde  de  Romanones,  the  political  leader  of  the  anti- 
clericals,  and  Minister  of  the  Interior  in  the  last  Liberal  cabinet,  is  by 
no  means  opposed  to  Christianity,  or  even  to  Catholicism  of  the  demo- 
cratic school  of  Cardinal  Gibbons  and  Archbishop  Ireland.  He  fights 
only  against  a  Church  which  refuses  to  keep  in  touch  with  social  progress, 
and  calls  political  weapons  to  its  aid  instead  of  relying  on  spiritual 
force.  This  is  clearly  brought  out  in  a  paper  by  Romanones  lately 
contributed  to  the  Mercure  de  France  (April  15,  1907)  :  "  The  Chris- 
tian world,"  he  remarks,  "is  making  towards  higher  conceptions 
of  its  faith,  and  perhaps  no  historical  epoch,  not  even  the  thirteenth 
century,  has  been  so  profoundly  Christian  as  the  present.  The  ethical 
essence  of  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  is  rapidly  being  incorporated  in  social 
aspiration,  and  the  principles  of  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity,  the 
heart  of  contemporary  democracies  and  the  ideals  to  which  political 
evolution  is  tending,  are  the  echo  of  Christian  preaching."  Similarly, 
on  the  literary  side,  Perez  Galdos,  although  his  Electra  once  became 
the  watchword  of  many  belonging  to  the  most  extreme  anti-religious, 
free-thinking,  and  revolutionary  parties  in  Spain,  is  himself  by  no 
means  an  extremist.  He  is  fully  able  to  sympathise  with  all  that  is 
best  and  freest  in  the  mystical,  religious  temper  of  his  countrymen. 
He  is  not  opposed  to  the  Church,  he  tells  us  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
thinks  the  Church  should  be  preserved,  but  he  wishes  to  check  the 
growth  of  monasticism,  which  has,  he  believes,  attained  alarming 
dimensions  during  the  past  century,  and  to  restrain  the  undue  influ- 
ence of  the  Church  on  secular  life.  "  Do  not  touch  the  secular 
clergy  ! "  he  exclaims,  and  even  among  the  monastic  orders  he  is  will- 
ing to  uphold  those  which,  like  the  Augustinians  and  the  Carmelites, 
retain  an  atmosphere  of  poetry,  reserving  his  indignation  for  those, 
more  especially  the  Jesuits,  who  preach  a  barren  ideal  of  gloomy  virtue, 
and  whose  "diabolical  inspiration"  tends  to  dry  up  the  fountains  of 
life. 


398  THE   SOUL   OF  SPAIN 

that  *'  no  philosophy  opposed  to  Christian  piety 
will  ever  find  a  favourable  atmosphere  in  Spain." 
On  the  other,  another  thoughtful  observer, 
Pascual  Santacruz,  asserts  that  the  Spanish 
people  are  now  largely  at  bottom  sceptical,  even 
indifi'erent,  and  that  in  so  far  as  they  are  still 
religious  they  are  ceasing  to  regard  the  actual 
Catholicism  of  to-day  as  the  legitimate  outcome 
of  the  gospel  of  Christ.  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan, 
also,  though  personally  sympathetic  towards 
Catholicism,  similarly  writes :  "  Our  religiosity 
is  part  of  our  legend.  We  are  no  longer  a 
religious  people,  even  in  observance." 

It  may  surprise  us  to  hear  such  statements 
concerning  a  people  who  once  played  so  fervid 
and  imposing  a  part  in  the  development  of 
Catholicism.  But  we  may  remember  that 
France,  once  the  most  Catholic  of  countries 
and  the  land  of  saints,  has  since  taken  the  lead 
in  throwing  off  any  official  connection  with  reli- 
gion, and  that  even  so  fervidly  devout  a  region 
as  Brittany  is  also  characterised  by  the  fervour 
of  its  freethinkers.  The  old  wine  is  poured  into 
new  bottles,  and  the  spirit  of  the  fathers  is 
renewed  in  the  sons  under  other  forms.  That  it 
should  disappear  we  cannot  expect.  The  tem- 
peramental passion  of  the  Spaniard  and  his 
fundamental  mysticism — the  force  that  lay  be- 
hind Raymond  Lull  and  Loyola  and  St.  Theresa 
— are  inherent  in  the  race.     Ganivet  considered 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    399 

that  the  Spaniard's  tendency  to  mysticism,  or 
exaltation  of  religious  feeling,  is  a  sanctification 
of  his  primitive  African  sensuality,  and  that  his 
tendency  to  fanaticism,  or  exaltation  of  practical 
action,  is  a  turning  towards  himself  of  the  fury 
accumulated  during  eight  centuries  of  battle 
between  Christian  and  Moor,  However  that 
may  be,  these  qualities  cannot  fail  to  persist, 
even  though  they  cease  to  inspire  the  Catholicism 
which  was  once  their  supreme  manifestation. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  occupy  ourselves  in  more 
detail  with  the  rather  superficial  manifestations 
of  the  Spanish  spirit  represented  in  the  pessi- 
mistic shape  by  Macias  Picavea,  and  the  optimistic 
by  Morote.  Of  greater  interest  are  the  more 
penetrating  efforts  of  the  best  thinkers  of  modern 
Spain  to  ascertain  what  really  are  the  funda- 
mental and  permanent  traits  of  the  Spanish 
character.  A  notable  attempt  to  clear  the  path 
in  this  direction,  careful  and  deliberate,  although 
the  direct  outcome  of  the  war,  is  furnished  by 
the  Psicologia  del  Pueblo  Esijanol,  published 
by  Professor  Kafael  Altamira  of  the  University 
of  Oviedo  in  1902.  Altamira  is  not,  indeed,  a 
subtle  psychologist  like  Ganivet,  but  as  a  student 
of  law  and  sociology  and  the  history  of  civilisa- 
tion he  is  far  too  familiar  with  the  events  and 
the  opinions  of  the  past  to  fall  into  any  extra- 
vagant attitude  in  face  of  the  problems  of  the 
present.     He  represents  the  best  type  of  modern 


400  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

Spanish  professor,  erudite  and  cautious,  but 
enlightened  and  progressive,  an  enthusiast  for 
educational  advance,  and  a  fervent  advocate  for 
its  popular  form  of  "  university  extension,"  of 
which  his  own  university  has  already  set  the 
example  in  Asturias.  As  might  be  anticipated 
in  the  case  of  a  man  with  the  historian's  habit, 
Altamira  is  less  inclined  to  find  the  source  of 
Spain's  present  social  and  political  weakness  in 
personal  defects,  such  as  lack  of  persistency  to 
which  Costa  traces  it,  or  excess  of  individuality 
to  which  Ganivet  attaches  importance,  than  in 
more  slowly  and  complexly  working  causes  of 
economic  order.  He  finds  the  explanation  not 
so  much,  according  to  the  old  theory,  in  the 
demoralisation  produced  by  "  American  gold," 
as  in  depopulation,  to  which  many  causes  con- 
tributed, in  national  impoverishment,  and  in  the 
erroneous  direction  taken  by  religious  sentiment. 
The  combined  tendency  of  these  influences 
during  recent  centuries,  Altamira  believes,  has 
interposed  obstacles  which  have  so  dispersed  the 
energies  of  Spain  that  at  critical  moments  they 
have  been  unable  to  concentrate  on  the  solution 
of  internal  crises.  Like  the  waters  of  the 
Gruadiana  in  part  of  its  course,  the  stream  of 
national  vigour  has  been  diverted  and  swallowed 
up  in  the  soil.  Altamira  concludes  that  national 
regeneration  is  possible,  though  only  on  the  basis 
of  the  natural  conditions  demonstrated  by  the 


SPANISH   IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    401 

study  of  the  past.  As  essential  to  this  re- 
generation, he  regards  a  renewed  faith  in  the 
native  quaUties  of  the  people  and  its  aptitudes 
for  civilised  life,  but  with  due  care  to  avoid  the 
attempt  at  any  mere  archaeological  revival  of 
the  forms  of  the  past,  for  it  is  only  by  contact 
with  modern  civilisation  that  the  national  genius 
can  be  vivified  and  rendered  apt  for  the  tasks 
before  it. 

For  a  combined  historical  and  psychological 
analysis  of  the  Spanish  spirit,  with  a  touch  of 
irony  superadded,  we  may  finally  turn  to  a 
writer  who  to-day  occupies  a  more  distinguished 
place  in  Spanish  letters  than  any  of  the  other 
living  writers  we  have  encountered.  Miguel  de 
Unamuno,  a  Basque  by  birth,  and  now  Rector  of 
the  University  of  Salamanca,  is  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  of  Spanish  writers  and  a  penetrative 
critic,  especially  the  critic,  caustic  more  often 
than  sympathetic,  of  his  countrymen's  charac- 
teristics and  shortcominsfs.  His  recent  Vida  de 
Do7i  Quijote  y  Sancho  is  a  curious  attempt  to 
present  an  essay  of  Spanish  philosophy  expressed 
in  terms  of  the  two  figures  who  together  sum  up 
the  whole  attitude  of  the  Spanish  mind  towards 
life.  Of  more  significance,  however,  from  our 
present  point  of  view,  is  the  volume  entitled  En 
Torno  al  Casticismo,  published  in  1902,  although 
it  was  really  written  in  substance  during  1895, 
and  thus  belongs  to  the  same  period  as  Ganivet's 

2d 


402  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

Ideay^ium  Espanol,  to  which  it  forms  an 
interesting  counterpart.  Ganivet,  living  a  cos- 
mopolitan life  outside  his  country,  concentrated 
his  devout  reflections  on  the  permanently  vital 
and  precious  elements  in  the  Spanish  spirit,  the 
sole  source,  it  seemed  to  him,  of  any  national 
regeneration.  Unamuno,  a  less  deliberate  writer 
perhaps,  a  less  fascinatingly  individual  thinker, 
possesses  a  larger  outlook,  the  charm  of  a  spon- 
taneous and  ardent  style,  a  wide  acquaintance  as 
well  with  books  as  with  the  younger  generation 
of  Spaniards,  and  an  eager  impatience  with  the 
obstacles  in  the  road  of  progress  which  leads  him 
to  throw  an  air  of  satire  even  over  his  serious 
attempts  to  define  precisely  the  essence  of  the 
Castilian  spirit.  The  word  casticismo  by  which 
he  designates  this  spirit — a  word  which  occurs 
so  often  in  the  writings  of  Spanish  critics — may 
be  said  to  correspond  to  our  "  breed  "  or  "  race  " 
in  the  more  popular  use  of  the  words  as  an  indi- 
cation of  approval.  It  is  in  the  golden  age  of 
Castilian  literature,  especially  in  the  drama,  and 
above  all  in  Calderon, — the  "  poeta  espanolis- 
simo,"  as  Menendez  y  Pelayo  terms  him, — that 
Unamuno  finds  the  purest  manifestations  of 
casticismo.  In  that  word  are  concentrated  the 
special  valour  and  virtue  of  Castile,  just  as  some 
have  attempted  to  concentrate  the  special  valour 
and  virtue  of  Japan  in  the  word  hushido.  But 
Unamuno,  while  by  no  means  wishing  to  cast 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    403 

contempt  on  what  is  castizo,  reveals  that  he  is 
not  himself  a  true  child  of  Castile,  by  pointing 
out  how  largely  it  is  characterised  by  sterility 
and  impracticability.  It  is  plebeianly  realistic  on 
the  one  hand,  and  formally  idealistic  on  the  other, 
seldom  able  to  effect  any  vital  union  of  those  two 
unlike  elements.  The  orave  Hurtado  de  Mendoza 
(if  we  may  believe  the  improbable  story  of  his 
authorship)  narrates  the  tricks  of  Lazarillo  de 
Tormes,  and  Quevedo  turns  from  Marcus  Brutus 
to  write  of  Don  Pablos.  Unamuno  contrasts  the 
narrow  sterility  of  this  casticismo  with  the  uni- 
versally human  spirit  of  Cervantes,  and  urges 
his  countrymen  to  recognise  that  it  is  only  in 
the  larger  and  more  vital  ideas  of  old  Spain  that 
they  can  find  help  to  grapple  with  the  problems 
of  the  modern  world.  ^ 

When  we  seek  to  compare  the  ideals  of  pro- 
gress maintained  by  these  preachers  of  Spanish 
regeneration,  we  find  various  individual  differ- 
ences, but  they  are  all  agreed  as  to  the  direction 

^  In  a  more  recent  essay  Unamuno  goes  farther,  and  declares  that 
the  apparent  idealism  of  Spaniards,  even  in  religion,  is  really 
materialism,  a  lack  of  ideality  and  of  the  poetic  spirit,  which  he  by 
no  means  identifies  with  the  literary  spirit.  "  If  in  Spain  there  is  an 
absence  of  what  is  called  the  practical  spirit,  it  is  because  there  is  a 
lack  of  the  poetic  spirit,  the  most  practical  of  all.  Other  peoples  excel 
us  in  business  because  they  have  a  freer  play  of  imagination  and  apply 
it  to  business.  Literature  will  not  help  us  to  make  railways,  har- 
bours, factories,  or  agriculture,  but  without  })0etry  they  are  impossible." 
Unamuno  is  here  writing  in  a  hortatory  rather  than  a  scientific  spirit, 
but  it  may  no  doubt  be  maintained  that  the  English,  who  are  one  of  the 
most  practical  of  peoples — in  so  far  as  commerce  and  industry  can  be 
termed  practical — are  also  one  of  the  most  poetic  and  idealistic. 


404  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

in  which  they  would  desire  the  new  generation  of 
Spaniards  to  walk.  Ganivet,  indeed,  may  seem 
to  stand  somewhat  apart,  with  his  emphatic 
advice  to  his  fellow-countrymen  to  look  within, 
to  seek  salvation  in  themselves  and  in  their  own 
best  traditions.  His  consular  experiences  in 
progressive  countries  had  taught  Ganivet  that 
the  glorification  of  political  and  commercial 
activities,  which  make  up  the  contemporary 
notion  of  civilisation,  only  leads  to  the  triumph 
of  the  commonplace  and  vulgar  elements  in 
society,  and  is  far  from  constituting  an  ideal 
worthy  of  imitation.  It  must  also  be  remem- 
bered, on  the  one  hand,  that  Ganivet  wrote 
before  the  war,  when  Spain's  limited  energies 
were  still  being  wasted  in  the  fruitless  struggle 
to  maintain  what  was  supposed  to  be  Spain's 
honour  in  Cuba,  and  that,  on  the  other  hand, 
Ganivet's  conception  of  the  Spanish  soul  by  no 
means  corresponded  to  that  narrow  Castilian 
casticismo  which  Unamuno  cruelly  analyses ; 
he  included  as  a  permanent  element  of  it  the 
Arab  influences  of  the  Spanish  Moslem  world, 
and  believed  that  those  who  deny  or  abstract 
those  influences  not  only  show  themselves  un- 
able to  comprehend  the  Spanish  character,  but 
"  commit  a  psychological  crime."  This  opinion 
concerning  the  relation  of  Moorish  and  Spanish 
civilisation,  it  may  be  noted  in  passing,  although 
opposed  to  some  popular  traditions,  is  supported 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    405 

by  many  modern  scholars.  The  invading  Moors 
— for  the  most  part  Berbers  mixed  with  a  few 
Arabs — brought  no  civilisation  with  them  ;  they 
had  scarcely  emerged  from  savagery.  But  they 
acquired  in  Spain  a  peculiar  receptivity  which 
they  have  not  often  manifested  at  home,  and 
slowly  absorbed  and  developed  the  elements  of 
the  Christian  and  classic  traditions  they  found 
around  them.^  "  Averroes,"  Valera  remarks, 
"  was  as  much  a  Spaniard  as  Seneca."  "  The 
Cid  himself,"  says  Dozy,  with  perhaps  a  little 
exaggeration,  "  was  rather  a  Mussulman  than  a 
Christian."  In  spirit,  and  very  often,  there 
seems  little  doubt,  in  blood,  the  great  names  of 
Moorish  civilisation  belong  to  Spain.  It  must 
also  be  remembered  that  while  the  Moors 
tolerated  Christianity,  the  great  Christian  cities 
of  Spain,  on  their  part,  welcomed  Moorish  men 
of  science  and  Moslem  philosophy.  It  was  to 
Raimundo,  Archbishop  of  Toledo  and  Chancellor 
of  Castile,  Renan  has  said,  that  Christendom 
owes  the  introduction  of  Arabic  texts  into  its 
schools,  and  the  initiation  of  a  new  scientific 
and  philosophic  movement  which  deeply  affected 
the  fate  of  Europe.  Ganivet  is  not  widely  at 
variance,  therefore,  with  Unamuno  and  the 
others  who  urge  that   Spain  is  suffering  from 

1  Simonet,  for  instance,  has  emphasised  the  extraordinary  aptitude 
of  the  Moors  for  absorbing  the  best  elements  of  the  life  of  the  peoples 
around  them. 


406  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

lack  of  receptivity  to  foreign  influences.  The 
learned  Altamira — who  desires  to  "  harmonise 
the  ideals  and  the  genius  of  Spain  with  all  that 
is  good  and  sound  in  modern  civilisation  " — is 
careful  to  point  out  that  the  greater  Spain  of  an 
earlier  age  was  singularly  alive  to  all  foreign 
currents  of  influence,  Christian  and  Moslem 
alike,  and  that  the  fecundation  of  its  native 
genius  by  these  relationships  was  manifested  in 
mediaeval  Spanish  literature,  in  the  Spanish 
humanism  of  the  Renaissance,  and  in  many 
elements  of  Spanish  law.  Not  only  was  this 
so,  he  adds,  but  Spaniards  deliberately  sought  to 
multiply  their  points  of  contact  with  the  world, 
both  by  attracting  foreign  professors  to  their 
universities,  and  by  themselves  going  abroad 
to  study,  while  the  canons  of  many  Spanish 
churches  were  compelled  by  ecclesiastical  statutes 
to  pursue  a  part  of  their  studies  at  foreign 
universities,  a  state  of  things  not  entirely  upset 
by  the  efl'orts  of  Philip  11.  to  isolate  Spain 
intellectually.  We  are  accustomed  to  regard  all 
Spanish  thought  as  cast  in  a  mould  of  rigid 
uniformity,  but,  as  Altamira  remarks,  here 
following  Menendez  y  Pelayo,  this  was  not  the 
case  even  in  the  sphere  of  rehgion ;  within  the 
Church  there  was  wide  liberty  of  speculation  in 
all  matters  that  were  not  matters  of  faith,  while 
outside  the  pale  of  orthodoxy  the  various  mani- 
festations of  rationalistic  thought  were  not  rare. 


SPANISH  IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    407 

So  marked,  indeed,  was  the  variety  of  theo- 
logical opiuion  in  Spain,  that  an  Italian  traveller 
observed  that  the  Inquisition,  though  not  re- 
quired in  his  own  country,  was  a  necessity  in 
Spain.  The  violent  opposition  which  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Spanish  Inquisition  encountered, 
an  opposition  which  made  martyrs  of  some 
of  the  early  inquisitors,  points  in  the  same 
direction. 

Unamuno,  although  a  writer  of  different 
temperament  and  interests,  reaches  conclusions 
similar  to  Altamira's.  He  deprecates  the  Spanish 
emphasis  on  individuality  and  distinguishes  be^ 
tween  individuality  and  personality.^  San  Juan 
de  la  Cruz,  who  represents  the  culminating  point 
of  Spanish  mysticism,  the  essence  of  Castilian 
casticismo,  was  in  the  highest  degree  individual, 
but  his  spirit  was  anti-personal,  and  it  is  rich 
personality,  instinctively  feeling  that  each  is  in 
all,  and  all  in  each,  which  can  alone  prove 
fruitful.  A  narrow  and  rigid  historical  casti- 
cismo can  but  be  the  instrument  of  spiritual 
impoverishment.  The  Castilian  soul  was  great 
only  when  it  opened  itself  to  the  four  winds  and 
scattered  itself  across  the  world.  It  is  only  by 
opening  our  windows  to  the  winds  of  Europe, 

1  Excess  of  individuality  has  certainly  nowhere  been  so  highly 
honoured  as  in  Spain.  Van  Aerssen,  nearly  three  centuries  ago, 
alluded  to  the  psychological  significance  of  the  fact  that  in  adopting 
the  word  bizarro,  which  in  Spanish  has  an  entirely  noble  sense,  the 
French  iustiuctively  gave  it  an  eccentric  and  ridiculous  tinge. 


408  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

Unamuno  finally  repeats,  in  the  faith  that  we 
shall  not  thereby  lose  our  own  personality,  that 
we  can  hope  to  regenerate  the  exhausted  moral 
soil  of  Spain. 

That  Spain  has  for  a  long  time  past  been 
sufiering  from  an  attack  of  spiritual  marasmus, 
every  one  of  the  typical  Spaniards  whose  opinion 
has  been  passed  in  review  clearly  admits,  and 
indeed  for  the  most  part  emphasises.  As  to  the 
chief  cause  of  this  moral  disease  they  differ. 
For  one  it  is  found  in  the  prolonged  influence 
of  unfortunate  economic  and  political  circum- 
stances. For  another  it  is  largely  due  to 
adherence  to  a  too  narrow  historical  tradition 
of  past  greatness.  For  a  third  much  signifi- 
cance is  to  be  found  in  a  temperamental  dis- 
crepancy between  an  extravagant  impulse  to 
great  designs  and  an  inadequate  executive  apti- 
tude. For  yet  another  the  nation  is  overcome 
by  the  disease  of  loss  of  will  power.  To  the 
outsider  who  takes  a  comprehensive  view  of 
the  situation  it  may  well  seem  that — admitting 
the  existence  of  a  defect  of  vitality  in  the 
spiritual  state  of  Spain — both  external  circum- 
stances and  temperamental  reaction  to  them 
have  contributed  to  bring  about  and  to  main- 
tain this  state.  A  succession  of  chilling  mor- 
tifications, of  failures  largely  imposed  from 
without  during  many  centuries,  may  produce 
even  on  a  fervent  and  high-spirited  people  the 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    409 

auto-suggestion  of  its  own  ineffectiveness  and 
the  hopelessness  of  effort/  Even  Altamira,  who 
finds  the  real  source  of  the  trouble  in  economic 
conditions,  compares  the  intellectual  element  of 
the  Spanish  population  to  Turgueneff's  Dmitri 
Rudin,  the  victim  of  a  distrust  in  his  powers, 
himself  creating  an  atmosphere  of  pessimism  in 
which  faith  and  energy  cannot  breathe. 

Yet,  in  this  sphere  at  all  events,  it  is  men's 
beliefs  that  mould  reality,  and  he  is  strong  who 
feels  that  he  is  strong.  It  is  difficult  for  the 
outsider  to  see  anything  more  fundamentally 
wrong  in  the  spiritual  life  of  Spain  than  the 
Spaniard's  belief  that  it  is  wrong.  Every 
foreign  student  of  Spain  has  been  impressed  by 
the  sterling  and  noble  qualities  possessed  by  the 
peasants  and  working  people  of  Spain  ;  "  as  fine 
a  race  as  one  might  wish  to  meet  with,"  has 
truly  said  one  who  knows  them  well.  The 
people  of  Spain  are  still  sound  at  the  core ; 
they  have  suffered  as  much  from  their  virtues 
as  from  their  vices, — from  their  idealisms,  their 
indifl'erence  to  worldly  advantage,  their  cheer- 
ful good -nature,  their  stoical  resignation.  If 
Spaniards  could  but  realise  the  unused  reservoir 

^  We  have  in  English  several  good  books  on  the  history  of  Spain  : 
for  the  early  period  Ulick  Burke's  History  of  Spain  to  the  Death  of 
Ferdinand  the  Catholic  ;  for  the  latest  period  Mr.  Martin  Hume's 
Modern  Spain,  and  the  late  H.  Butler  Clarke's  Modern  Spain.  For 
the  intervening  period  I  may  mention  Mr.  Hume's  recent  illuminativo 
book,  The  Court  of  Philip. 


410  THE   SOUL  OF   SPAIN 

of  original  energy  which  is  still  stored  within 
their  race,  quietly  manifested  in  the  details  of 
everyday  life,  their  problem  would  be  solved. 
They  have  but  to  educate  and  utilise  the  excel- 
lent human  material  they  possess.  The  self- 
styled  decadent  insists  on  lying  down  in  the 
belief  that  he  is  hopelessly  paralysed.  Some 
day,  we  can  scarcely  doubt,  the  voice  of  a  more 
potent  prophet  than  we  hear  to-day  will  compel 
him  to  take  up  his  bed  and  walk.  On  that  day 
he  will  find  that  his  spiritual  state  is  no  more 
hopeless  than  are  his  economic  and  industrial 
conditions. 

We  are  apt  to  forget,  however, — and  the 
Spanish  pessimists  of  to-day  seem  peculiarly  apt 
to  forget, — that  in  any  country  in  any  age  the 
men  who  arise  and  walk,  strongly  and  fearlessly, 
in  accordance  with  the  inspirations  of  their  own 
souls,  can  be  but  a  very  small  minority.  The 
majority,  always  and  everywhere,  are  lame 
and  weak,  timid  and  conventional.  Unamuno 
is  grieved  because  the  youth  of  Madrid  are  suffer- 
ing from  ideophohia,  the  horror  of  ideas  ;  but  it 
is  a  disease  by  no  means  confined  to  Madrid ;  in 
London,  for  instance,  it  is  endemic.  National 
indolence  or  social  parasitism,  which  Spanish 
reformers  seek  to  battle  with  to-day,  is  ever 
present  in  some  form,  a  more  respectable  or 
a  less  respectable  form ;  in  its  more  respectable 
Spanish    form    it   finds    refuge    in    officialdom, 


SPANISH   IDEALS  OF  TO-DAY    411 

in  its  less  respectable  forms  it  inspired  the 
picaresque  literature  whicli  is  among  the  achieve- 
ments of  Spain's  golden  age.  It  is  not  the 
existence  of  such  an  element  in  the  national 
life  which  is  the  main  concern, — for  not  every 
one  can  be  a  Vasco  da  Gama  or  a  Hernan 
Cortes,  a  Cervantes  or  a  Calderon,  a  Velazquez 
or  a  Goya, — but  the  freedom  and  vigour  with 
which  the  elect  few  can  live  and  move  in  the 
national  life  and  dominate  its  currents.  That  is 
never  an  easy  task,  even  for  the  most  indomitable 
and  audacious  persons,  even  in  the  ages  most 
favourable  for  their  achievements. 

If  we  bear  in  mind  all  the  difficulties  — 
political,  economic,  and  religious — with  which 
the  Spanish  people  have  so  long  been  struggling, 
and  not  on  the  whole  ineffectively,  it  can  scarcely 
seem  to  us  that  in  Spain  the  elect  few  have  ever 
quite  failed  to  make  themselves  felt.  As  we 
have  seen  again  and  again,  the  Spaniard  has 
always  possessed  character.  Spain  has  always 
been  a  land  of  great  personalities.  In  art  and 
literature,  more  especially,  Spain  to-day — as  well 
as  that  larger  Spain  beyond  the  ocean  which  is 
coming  more  closely  into  touch  with  the  mother 
country  than  it  has  ever  been  before — still 
emphatically  embodies  those  ideals  which,  ele- 
mentary as  they  are,  have  never  been  more 
potently  and  influentially  asserted  than  by 
Spaniards.     In  art  there  is    no    more   supreme 


412  THE   SOUL   OF   SPAIN 

representative  of  nature  and  realism  than  Velaz- 
quez, for  whom  the  truthful  presentation  of  life, 
and  of  the  air  in  which  life  breathes  and  moves, 
was  lifted  to  a  beauty  and  perfection  beyond 
and  above  that  of  ideal  art.  In  the  supreme 
Spanish  novelist,  again,  in  Cervantes,  we  find  the 
same  equally  triumphant  achievements,  the  same 
complex  picture  of  real  life  transcending  the 
ideal. 

It  is  naturalism,  the  passion  of  life,  the 
stimulating  appeal  of  aspiring  and  inexhaustible 
energy,  in  harmony  with  the  movement  of  life 
itself,  that  has  for  ever  moved  the  Spanish  soul. 
There  is  no  more  inspiring  moralist,  it  has  often 
been  said,  than  the  old  Spaniard  Seneca.  Even 
the  Spanish  mystics  have  been  practical,  with 
energies  directed  towards  action,  and  instead 
of  following  the  misty  iridescent  paths  of  a 
Bohme  or  a  Kuysbroeck,  they  have  written  with 
a  clearness,  vigour,  and  balance  which  place 
them  in  the  ranks  of  classics.  The  fury  of  life 
moves  in  this  grave  and  passionate  Spanish  soul, 
alike  in  its  national  philosophy  and  its  national 
dancing.  Trompetas  de  Organo  is  the  title 
given  to  a  collection  of  his  verse  by  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  writers  of  Spain  to-day, 
Salvador  Rueda.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the 
finest  utterances  in  song,  even  from  Homer  at 
one  end  to  Verlaine  at  the  other,  are  fittingly 
called  Trompetas  de  Organo.     But  the  Spanish 


SPANISH   IDEALS   OF  TO-DAY    413 

genius  is  seldom  aesthetically  exquisite ;  it  seeks 
above  all  the  emphasis  of  character  in  its 
naturalistic  grasp  of  life,  the  emphasis  that 
Rueda  seeks,  enamoured  of  the  earth  and  of  all 
natural  things.  It  is  in  the  characteristic  spirit 
of  moral  valour,  again,  that  Nunez  de  Arce,  a 
writer  of  the  like  temper  in  the  previous  genera- 
tion, called  his  chief  volume  "  battle-cries," 
Gritos  del  Comhate.  Trompetas  de  Organo, 
again,  or  Gritos  del  Comhate,  with  the  like  lack 
of  exquisite  aesthetic  quality,  are  many  of  the 
most  notable  volumes  and  plays  of  the  day, 
with  all  the  long  historical  series  of  Episodas 
Nacionales,  in  which  Galdos,  the  most  repre- 
sentative literary  force  on  the  side  of  progressive 
reform,  has  sought  to  picture  the  national  life. 
Blasco  Ibanez  reveals  the  same  qualities  in  a  still 
more  emphatic  shape ;  in  his  life  and  in  his 
works  this  son  of  indomitable  Aragon  has  dis- 
played all  the  typical  Spanish  virility,  the 
free -ranging  personal  energy,  the  passion  for 
independence  which  of  old  filled  Saragossa  with 
martyrs  and  heroes.  And  in  art,  with  a  still 
wider  human  appeal,  the  modern  painters 
of  Spain,  —  Sorolla,  Zuloaga,  and  Anglada- 
Camarasa  at  their  head, — have  translated  these 
same  personal  and  moral  qualities  into  pigment, 
imparting  to  their  Spanish  vision  of  the  world 
its  own  special  savour,  its  exhilarating  vigour, 
its  heroic  execution.      It  has  been  by  passion, 


414  THE   SOUL  OF  SPAIN 

by  virility,  by  moral  energy  carried  to  the 
farthest  point,  that  the  firm-fibred  soul  of  Spain 
has  achieved  its  place  in  the  world,  and  in  his 
own  way  the  Spaniard  of  to-day  still  carries  on 
the  traditions  of  the  race. 


INDEX 


Actresses,  Spanish,  108 

Aerssen,  van,  393,  407 

African  affinities  of  Spain,  29,  36, 

173,  184 
Alar  con,  59 
Albi  Cathedral,  297 
Aleman,  Mateo,  38,  75 
Alhambra,  B13  et  seq. 
Altamira,  R.,  399,  406,  409 
Anarchism  in  Spain,  51 
Andalusia,  62,  65,  176,  338  et  seq. 
Anglada-Camarasa,  132 
Anthropology  of  Spain,  33 
Aragon,  68,  183,  199 
Architecture,  Spanish,  21,  107,  199, 

202,  282  et  seq.,  309,  324  et  seq. 
.Ajenal,  Concepcion,  86,  102,  104 
Argamasilla,  233 
Armstrong,  Sir  Walter,  159,  164 
Arnold  of  Villanueva,  282 
Art  of  Spain,  106  et  seq. 
Artemidorus,  66 

Asceticism,  Spanish,  41,  3S0  et  seq. 
Astorga,  327 
Athenseus,  171 
Auto-de-/e,  53 
Averroes,  405 
Azorin,  392 

Bacon,  Francis,  42,  392 
Balearic  Islands,  192  et  seq. 
Bandello,  99 
Barcelona,  273  et  seq.,  291  et  seq., 

300,  302 
Baretti,  174 
Barraganeria,  85 
Barr^,  Maurice,  45,  343 


Bartels,  70 

Basques,  30,  275 

Bazan,  Emilia  Pardo,  38,  78,  83,  85, 

86,  90-100,  101,  102,  103,  110, 

234,  244,   256,  353   393,  398 
Beauty,  Spanish  type  of,  65,  78 
Becker,  172 
Beggars,  38,  47 
Berbers,  30,  34,  39 
Bertaux,  117 
Beruete,   A.,  146,  153,    159,    160, 

163,  164,  165,  167 
Bevotte,  G.  de,  344 
Biagi,  G.,  99 
BUbao,  52,  275 
Bizet,  88 

Black,  Spanish  love  of,  66 
Blasco  Ibaflez,  37,  59,  76,   77,  92 

270,  413 
Bloch,  Iwan,  84 
Blondes  in  Spain,  78 
Blood,  Spanish  interest  in,  44  et  seq 
Blue  blood,  79 
Boffiy,  297 
Bolognese  art,  120 
Borrow,  G.,  11 
Bowie,  Rev.  John,  224 
Bradley,  H.,  49 

Braggart  as  Spanish  type,  56,  175 
Brantome,  56,  133 
Breasts  of  Spanish  women,  70 
Brunettes  in  Spain,  78 
Brunton,  Sir  Lauder,  79 
Buda-Pesth,  5 
Bueno,  Manuel,  397 
Bull-fight,  the,  41,  101,  348  et  seq. 
Burke,  Ulick,  85,  350,  409 


415 


416 


THE  SOUL  OF    SPAIN 


Bush  over  wine-shops,  14 
Business,  Spanish  attitude  towards, 

11 
Byzantine  influence,  117 

Cadiz,  174,  187 

Calderon,  8,  54,  75,  101,  307,  402 

Caliz,  the  Santa,  370 

Camargo,  Anna  de,  187 

Camoens,  58,  101,  307,  402 

Candles  in  worship,  23 

Caramnel,  48 

Carmandel,  70 

Carmona,  97 

Cartaret,  Lord  John,  224 

Carthaginians,  31 

Casanova,  40 

Castanets,  171,  186 

Casticisino,  402,  404,  407 

Catalonia,  51,  277 

Gelestina,  75,  84 

Celts  in  Spain,  32 

Cephalic  index  of  Spaniards,  35 

Ceremony,  Spanish  love  of,  52,  68 

Cervantes,  3,  37,  38,  47,  56,  58,  76, 

77,  79,  93,  97,  189,  223  et  seq., 

253,  273,  403 
Character,  Spanish,  11  et  seq.,  36  et 

seq.,  390  et  seq. 
Charles  II.,  152 
Chest  of  Spanish  women,  70 
Chivalry,  23,  157 
Chopin,  222 

Christ,  Spanish  feeling  towards,  45 
Church,  Spanish  attitude  to,  6,  396 

et  seq. 
Churches,    Spanish,    13,    21,   116, 

273   et  seq.,    324   et    seq.,    355 

et  seq. 
Cid,  23,  55,  405 
Cigarreras,  88,  353 
Clarke,  H.  Butler,  38,  56,  409 
Cologne  Cathedral,  356 
Columbus,  8,  338,  355 
Complexion,  Spanish,    35,    69,   76 

et  seq. 
Cordova,  68,  92,  97,  249,  316 
Corot,  137 
Cortes,  Donoso,  390 
Cortes,  Hernan,  40 
Costa,  J.,  400 
Costume,  Spanish,  66 


Counter-Reformation,  57 
Courtesans,  Spanish,  97  et  seq. 
Criminality  in  Spain,  33,  221 
Cuba,  8 
Cymbals,  173 

Dale,  A.  W.  W.,  96,  365 

Dalmau,  Luis  de,  113 

Damasus,  Pope,  365 

Dance  of  Death,  24 

Dancing,    Spanish,    9,   53,    170  et 

seq.,  341 
D'  Aragona,  TuUia,  99 
Dario,  Ruben,  41,  243 
D'Aulnoy,  Countess,  44 
David,  G.,  113 

Death,  Spanish  emphasis  on,  24 
Delicado,  72,  97 
Deniker,  34 
Devrient,  100 
Dewey,  Stoddard,  51 
Diaz,  132 

Dominicans,  57,  381 
Dozy,  405 

Ducheune  of  Bologne,  70 
Dumas,  G.,  101 
Duse,  E.,  138 

Easter  in  Seville,    347  et  seq.,  364 

et  seq. 
Education  of  Spanish  women,  103 
Egyptian  influences,  108,  173 
Elche,  the  Lady  of,  108 
Electricity  in  Spain,  4 
Ellis,  Havelock,  40,  61,  79 
Elvira,  Synod  of,  23,  96,  365 
Emmanuel,  172 
Energy,  Spanish,  40,  412 
Engel,  67,  108 
England   compared   to   Spain,    35, 

42,   46,  65,  71,  81,   83,  87,  89, 

353,  358,  384,  403 
Ensellure,  71 
Escorial,  24 
Espinel,  38 

Estebanez  Calderon.  181,  251 
Ethnic  characters  of  Spain,  34 
Eyck,  Jan  van,  112 
Eyes  of  Spanish  women,  74,  78 

Fabre,  Jaime,  291,  303,  304 
Fandango,  174 


INDEX 


417 


Fanelli,  51 

Farinelli,  344 

Fatigati,  E.  S.,  HO 

Fergusson,  297,  325 

Feria  at  Seville,  65, 188,  351  et  seq. 

Fernandez,  Alejo,  113 

Fiesta,  the,  41 

Finck,  78 

Fischer,  C.  A.,  84 

Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  J.,  58 

Flamenco,  origin  of  the  term,  175 

Flamenco-dancing,  180,  184 

Flemish  influence  in  Spanish  art, 

112 
Ford,  R.,  17,  26,  159,  181,  373 
Fortuny,  118 
Foulche-Delbosc,  211 
France  compared  to  Spain,  34,  36, 

71,  181 
Fritsch,  G.,  72 
Fuertes,  Soriano,  181 

Gait  of  Spanish  women,  73 
Galdos,   Perez,  6,    105,   247,   270, 

397,  413 
Gallegos,  33 
Gandara,  123 
Ganivet,  A.,   11,  45,  49,  55,  387, 

400,  402,  404 
Gaucin,  Maria  de,  101 
Gautier,  T.,  1,  35,  78 
Generalife,  318  et  seq. 
Germany  compared  to  Spain,  87, 

357 
Gerona,  14,  296  et  seq. 
Gil,  Juan,  326 
Giordano,  Luca,  135,  166 
Gipsies,  Spanish,  175  et  seq. 
Glover,  365 
Gomez-Moreno,  309 
Gothic,   Spanish,  20,   282  et  seq., 

324  et  seq.,  355  et  seq. 
Goya,  70,  101,  129  et  seq. 
Graf,  A.,  99 

Graham,  Mrs.  Cunninghame,  101 
Granada,   68,   111,   115,  193,   306 

et  seq.,  321 
Granada,  Luis  de,  255 
Greco,  El,  115  et  seq.,  145 
Greek  influence,  171 
Green,    Spanish  love  of,  75,   118, 

240 


Guerrero,  Rosita,  170 
Guzman,  Feliciana  de,  105 

Hair  of  Spanish  women,  74 

Hals,  F.,  133,  136 

Hapsburgs,  the,  151 

Head,  efi'ects  of  bearing  burdens  on 

72 
Head-dress,  Spanish,  66 
Herodorus,  33 
Herrera,  143 
Higgin,  L.,  309 
Hincks,  Marcelle,  172 
Holy  Week  observances,  44 
Horse-shoe  arch,  308 
Hotels,  Spanish,  7,  9 
Howell,  J.,  66,  83,  120,  380 
Hugo,  v.,  20 

Humane  qualities  of  Spaniards,  47 
Hume,  Major  Martin,  56,  409 

larbas,  39 

Iberians,  31,  39,   43,    48,   50,  66 

71,  84,  108 
Ibn  Tufail,  210 

Illegitimate  children  in  Spain,  85 
Individualism,  Spanish,  394,  406 
Inquisition,   the   Spanish,    42,    50 

64,  407 
Intolerance  of  Spaniards,  49 
Ireland  compared  to  Spain,  49 
Ironwork    screens,     Spanish,    110 

342 
Irving,  Washington,  313 
Italy  compared  to  Spain,  2,  35 

Jaime  I.,  49 
Janet,  Pierre,  101 
Jativa,  121 
Jordan,  President,  63 
Jota,  the,  182,  200 
Juan,  legend  of  Don,  343 
Juan  de  la  Cruz,  332,  407 
Jubainville,  32 
Justi,  117,  157 

Kabyles,  30,  72 

Lagneau,  71 
Laguna,  A.,  334 
Lamperez,  Blanca  de.  96 
Lance,  G.,  158 

2  E 


418 


THE  SOUL  OF  SPAIN 


Lazarillo  de  Tonnes,  38 

Lea,  H.  C,  32,  43,  48,  49,  53,  63 

Leal,  Valdes,  160 

Leather  bottle  in  Spain,  17 

Leighton,  Lord,  128 

Leon  Cathedral,  22,  110,  285,  288 

Leon,  Hebreo,  253 

Leon,  Luis  de,  46 

Lighting  of  Spanish  churches,  22 

Literature  in  Spain,  58 

Longevity  in  Spain,  62 

Louys,  88 

Love  in  Spain,  83 

Loyola,  23,  57,  372 

Lucan,  46 

Luis  de  Granada,  255 

Lull,  Kamon,  57,  191  et  seq. 

Luna,  Alvaro  de,  58 

Luna,  Isabella  de,  99 

Maccoll,  Norman,  40 

Macias  Picavea,  R.,  389  et  seq, 

Macrobius,  172 

Maetzu,  Ramiro  de,  394 

Majorca,  192  et  seq. 

Malaga,  35,  177,  187,  276 

Male,  E.,  24 

Male  costume  among  Spanish 
women,  104 

Manet,  107,  157 

Mantegazza,  65 

Mantilla,  69 

Marcus  Aurelius,  46 

Mariana,  Queen,  151 

Marti,  174 

Martial,  172 

Martinenche,  270 

Matriarchal  survivals,  84 

Mazo,  164 

Meals,  the  invitation  to  share,  17 

Mediaeval  survivals,  12  et  seq. 

Menendez  y  Pelayo,  47,  55,  57, 
211,  239,  253,  402,  406 

Mengs,  R.,  137 

Merim^e,  88 

Mohidin,  212 

Monasticism,  Spanish  attitude  to- 
wards, 6,  395  et  seq. 

Monks,  Spanish,  18 

Monroy,  Maria  de,  63 

Monserrat,  188,  369  et  seq. 

Montafies,  122,  153 


Moors,  31,  104,  193  et  seq.,  306  et 

seq.,  328,  404 
Morel-Fatio,  56 

Morocco  and  Spain,  17,  44,  212 
Morote,  L.,  394 
Mozarabes,  32 
Mudejares,  38 
Muladies,  32 
Murillo,  36,  124  et  seq. 

National    Gallery     Velazquez    in, 

156  ei  seq. 
Naturalism,     Spanish,     110,    142 

412 
Navarrete,  223 

Navarro  y  Ledesma,  233,  388 
Neapolitan  art,  120 
Negroes    compared    to   Spaniards, 

70,  72 
Newspaper  press  of  Spain,  6 
Nufiez  de  Arce,  413 
Nuns,  Spanish,  101 

Oloriz,  62 
Oporto,  142 
Ordericus  Vitalis,  287 
Orfila,  204 
Otero,  170 

Pacheco,  143,  159 

Pain,  Spanish  indiflference  to,  41 

Painting  in  Spain,  106  et  seq. 

Palacios,  192 

Paleocia,  45,  94 

Palma,  193  et  seq.,  299,  304 

Palma  in  Spain,  15 

Palomino,  162 

Parasitism,  Spanish,  40,  410 

Paris,  Pierre,  108,  109 

Parlow,  Hans,  230 

Patmore,  Coventry,  383 

Pecchio,  12,  105,  213 

Pefiafort,  Ramon  de,  54 

People,  the  Spanish,  29  et  seq. 

Pepys,  14 

Perpignan,  283 

Peyron,  7,  174,  382 

Philip  II.,  25 

Philip  IV.,  147 

Philippines,  8 

Phillips,  L.  March,  309 

Picaresque  literature,  38 


INDEX 


419 


Pigmentation  of  Spaniards,  35,  69, 

75 
Pizarro,  40 
Ploss,  70 
Population,  movement  of   Spanisli, 

3 
Portugal,  33,  58 
Posada,  86,  103 
Poynter,  159 
Pride,  Spanish,  38,  392 
Probst-Biraben,  210 
Progress  in  Spain,  1  et  seq. 
Prostitution,  Spanisb,  77  et  seq. 

Quevedo,  38,  403 
Quintero,  A.  and  S.,  4,  97 
Quiros,  C.  Bernaldo  de,  33,  71 

Racial  characters  of  Spaniards,  34 

Railway  travelling  in  Spain,  15 

Ramon  y  Cajal,  47 

Reform  in  Spain,  5 

Regoyos,  Dario  de,  26,  44 

Reinach,  108 

Religion  in  Spain,  22,  49,  57,  188, 

345,  380  et  seq.,  395  et  seq. 
Renan,  405 
Rennert,  383 
Reynier,  G.,  343 
Reynolds,  Sir  J.,  137 
Ribalta,  120 
Ribera,    Josef,    121    et   seq.,    144, 

159 
Ribera,  Julian,  211 
Ricketts,  117,  119,  159,  160 
Ripley,  30 
Ritual,  Spanish,  22,    52,  68,   189, 

349,  352 
Rizi,  Juan,  164 
Roelas,  115 

Romance,  Spain  the  home  of,  19 
Romanones,  Conde  de,  397 
Rome,  2 
Roussillon,  277 
Rubens,  149,  157 
Rueda,  Salvador,  413 
Russia    compared    to    Spain,    36, 

353 

Saavedra,  394 

Saddle-back  of  Spanish  women,  71 

Sagrera,  Guillermo,  199 


St.  Theresa,  57,  100,  212,  255 

Salamanca  Cathedral,  26,  325 

Salanunbo,  366 

Salazar,  121 

Salillas,    41,    87,    175,    176,    181, 

183 
Sand,  George,  194,  200 
Santacruz,  Pascual,  56,  398 
Santiago  de  Compostela,  285,  373 
Saragossa,  199 
Science  in  Spain,  47 
Sculpture,  Spanish,  107  et  seq. 
Segovia,  284,  321  et  seq. 
Seises,  the,  189 
Seneca,  46,  49,  412 
Servetus,  45 
Seville,  65,   139  et  seq.,  178,  188, 

285,  338  et  seq.,  355  et  seq. 
Shakespeare,  237 
Shawl,  the  Spanish,  67 
Sidney,  Sir  P.,  58 
Silius  Italicus,  35 
Simonet,  308,  405 
Simplicity,  Spanish  love  of,  7,  381 
Sky-eflfects  in  Castile,  112 
Social  intercourse  in  Spain,  11 
Socialism  in  Spain,  51 
Soldier  in  Spanish  literature,  58,  235 
Sorolla  y  Bastida,  132 
Sound,  Spanish  love  of  rhythmic, 

186 
Spalikowski,  71 
Spine  of  Spanish  women,  70 
Spinoza,  26 
Stendhal,  12 
Stevenson,  R.  A.  M.,  137 
Stirling-Maxwell,  Sir  W.,  137 
Stoicism,  Spanish,  41,  46 
Strabo,  1,  48,  84 
Street,  199,  286,  289,  325,  332 
Sufism,  210  et  seq. 
Sufl'rage  in  Spain,  86 
Symons,  Arthur,  118 

Tailhade,  L.,  349 
Tarragona,  14,  286  et  seq, 
Telesforo  de  Arauzadi,  31 
Thebussem,  Dr.,  241 
Theresa,  St.,  57,  100,  212,  255 
Tirso  de  Molina,  95,  343 
Toledo,  22,  110,  111,  115,  310,  329 
Tolerance  of  the  Spaniards,  49 
2  E  2 


420 


THE   SOUL   OF  SPAIN 


Torqnemada,  46,  335 

Tortajada,  La,  170 

Torture  in  judicial  proceedings,  42 

Tozer.  Basil,  350 

Tndela,  13,  285 

Unamuno,  Miguel  de,  9,  39,  389, 

401  et  seq.,  410 
Urban  development,  3 

Valencian  art,  120,  198 

Valera.  42,  52,  53,  76,  77,  91.  170, 

244  et  seq.,  316,  350,  383,  405 
YalladoUd,  110 
Valour,  Spanish,  56,  59 
Vandvck,  151 

Vega,"  Lope  de,  100,  231,  3S3 
Velazquez,    106,   109,   119.  134  et 

seq. 
Venetian  influence,  129,  137 
Venus  CaUipyge,  174 
Verhaeren,  E..  26,  44 


Viardot  159 
Vinci,  L.  da,  153 
Visigoths,  32,  49,  108,  309 

War,  influence  of  Spanish- American 

8 
Water-pots,  198,  278 
Westermarck,  17 
Weyden,  Roger  van  der,  112 
Whistler,  154 
Williamson.  157 
Women,  Spanish,  35,  61  et  seq.,  194 

213,  256  etseq.,  279,  307,  341 
Wood-carving,  Spanish,  110 
Work,  Spanish  attitude  towards,  37, 

40 

Zamora,  15,  26.  110,  324 
Zorilla,  Ruiz,  116,  381 
Zuloaga,  123,  131.  132 
Zurbaran,  36,  117,  127  e<  seq.,  130 
159,  160 


THE    END 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by  R.  &  R.  Clakk,  Limited,  Edinburgh. 


Portions  of  this  volume  have  appeared  in  a  preliminary 
form  in  the  Fortnightly,  Contemporary,  and  North 
American  Reviews,  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  Harper  s 
Magazine,  the  Twentieth  Century  Home,  etc.  An 
article  on  the  Genius  of  Spain,  which  was  published 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  After  for  May  1902, 
is  not  here  included,  having  been  written  to  appear 
ultimately  in  another  volume. 


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